Crossing Borders
by Angel's Innocence
Summary: They're on different sides of a war. They come from different backgrounds and families. They have only two things in common: their free black friend and hearts destined to be together. But can they, when one is to be married, and the other is a Union Spy?
1. Chapter 1

Crossing Borders

**Chapter One**

**Love, S.M.**

"Samantha! **Samantha**! **SAM**!" Samantha Manson, a.k.a. Sam, stirred restlessly at the persistent whisper above her right ear. She swatted at the annoying, would-be fly and rolled over. She failed to hear the indignant huff through the pillow she placed over her head, but felt a tug and cold air hitting her bare feet as her covers were snatched away.

Sam only groaned before curling in a ball and trying to go back to sleep. She had been having a fantastic dream of freedom, and peace, and a black-haired, blue-eyed stranger reaching toward her with love in his eyes. But she was yet again stirred out of her light doze by the sound of scuffling feet. She looked up blearily, but only in time to see a large, silver bucket full of―

'Splash!!!'

…Ice cold water.

Sam sputtered, wiping her eyes. "There. Now you'll wake up!" Sam groaned at her cheerful best friend Valerie Gray's voice and opened her eyes, sending a death glare over to the girl. Valerie just grinned, however, and unconsciously adjusted her maid's cap, drawing Sam's gaze with her movement.

The latter girl 'thunked' her head back down on her pillow, disappointed. "So it **was** a dream then." She knew she should have realized it. They were in the middle of the Civil War, for heaven's sake! But she couldn't help wishing that she was on the other side with the Union, where the blacks were free and she didn't have to guard every other word that she said to Valerie. But she did, and they weren't. "And I'll probably never see him…"

"Who?" Sam looked up sharply at her friend as she realized she had just been musing aloud. She blushed, shaking the image of bright blue eyes sparkling under a green Union cap out of her head.

"No one…" Valerie shot her a disbelieving look, and Sam hurried to change the subject, trying to distract the girl. "What did you want, Val?" The black sent her an obvious look that had 'we'll talk again later, young missy' all over her face, but answered the question.

"**Her Highness** sent me to wake you up with the message that your **wonderful **fiancé is coming to visit today. She also said to 'wear that **gorgeous **pink parlor dress with the lace-up front. Oh, and yes, wear it tight, darling, you know Dashie loves your assets!'" Valerie giggled at the murderous glare Sam had on her face and went over to the bureau before Sam could clobber her on the head with the pillow she currently had raised in her arms.

Sam put down her pillow and thumped back down on it, exasperated and annoyed as she rolled her eyes. "Why, oh why didn't I go with Tucker!?" She covered her mouth with her hand abruptly, stunned at what had escaped. She jumped out of the four-poster bed and ran over to Val, who seemed frozen, arms upheld with the monstrosity of a dress clutched in white-knuckled hands. "I'm **sooo **sorry, Val. It slipped, I'm sorry, I…"

"Its alright… I wish I had gone with him too. But it's not like either of us could have stopped him, much less convince him to let us go with him, huh? He was determined to join the Union army, and he didn't want us hu-hurt." Sam took the girl in her arms at the sound of her sob, wishing with all her heart that she could do something for her friend.

"Oh Val…" The black continued to cry for a minute more before pulling back, wiping her eyes on the edge of her black skirt and taking deep breaths.

"I'm alright." She said with determination and held up the dress, previously forgotten, for Sam to see. "Now let's get this horrendous thing on you, shall we?" Sam laughed somewhat bitterly before turning around and walking over to the chamber pot and changing screen. Valerie trailed after her, one last fleeting thought floating through her mind. '_I just wish I knew where he was…_'

**Forever, D.F.**

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Now!"

Danny Fenton sat up quickly as a brigade of freezing lake water was poured on his head, blinking his eyes and coughing up water.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He shouted, trying to murder the grinning black in Union uniform and the blue-clad nurse with his eyes. They just laughed, unfazed by the bright blue orbs currently sparked with green flecks.

"Just wishing you a happy birthday, my dear brother. It's not every day that a boy turns seventeen!" Said the nurse, flipping her red hair over her shoulder and smiling, eyes the same color of his own twinkling back at him.

"Yeah! What she said!" The black smirked as he picked up his Union cap, placing it on his head backwards. "That and the fact that General Lancer wants to talk to all the soldiers in about five minutes, and you're not even dressed yet!"

"What?!" Danny scrambled off his makeshift bed, hitting his ebony-haired head on the tent pole as he went. "When were you planning on telling me this, Tucker? After it was over so I could do even **more** drills?" Tucker chuckled softly as he watched his best friend struggle to get his leg through the green uniform coat sleeve. He glanced at the older girl, Jazz (Danny's only sister), out of the corner of his eye. He had been forced to pick up the habit when he was enslaved to the Mansons, and never got out of using it to look at 'whites' unknowingly.

Tuck's previously good mood vanished briefly as he thought of his old life, remembering vividly the horrid times. He had fled as soon as he could to find some way to join the Union, fleeing by night only eight months ago. The only thing he regretted was leaving Valerie behind, the personal maid to the only decent Manson and his friend, Sam. Tuck had planned on asking Valerie to marry him before he had gone, but had wanted to give her a chance of freedom before he did.

So Tucker had left in the middle of the night 231 days ago following the Underground Railroad, passing through Virginia and into the state of West Virginia. It was on the edge of said state that the Fentons found him, passed out on a bale of hay in their fields. Luckily, they were supporters of freeing blacks, and they obtained papers for him; now he was a free man.

Danny and his father, Jack, taught him the bare necessities of shouting a musket and ride a horse; Jazz and her mother, Madeline, had just begun teaching him the basics of reading, writing, and math when Danny happened to mention that he and Jazz would be joining the Union. Tucker jumped at the chance of joining, and they had been assigned to the 21st regiment and General Lancer led them out of West Virginia two months later.

Tucker couldn't help remembering how they had almost declined his admission because of his race, but he had just barely been allowed to come along because of Jack. He and Lancer went a long way back, and had been neighbors in their early years before Lancer joined the military.

Jack had pulled a favor out of Lancer to let Tuck join, but the elderly general could now say that he owed one to Jack once again. The boy may sing them deaf, and he couldn't cook worth bull, but he picked up on how to work a gun with flying colors. He had save the whole brigade with his fast shooting more than once, and he never asked for special treatment.

Tucker was pulled out of his reverie by Danny's muttering, the blue-eyed boy still going on about the drills he would receive, and had just started on a list of colorful, slow, and painful ways to kill Tucker when the man decided to interrupt. "I don't think anyone's going to have time for drills any time soon, Dan. General Lancer told me and a few other boys last night that we're moving to a new location. Said we're going to be walking for a **looonnnggg **time." Danny had finally gotten his coat on his arms and his pants on his legs and was listening to him quietly, head cocked to the side. He finally shrugged and shoved his hat over his head, the three walking out of the tent with Jazz leading the way.

"Did he say where we're headed, Tuck?" Jazz asked over her shoulder, raising her hand every once in a while to some of the other blue and green-clad medical workers.

"No, I suppose that's what the meeting is for. He did say once we got to our new station, though, that we might be joined by another W.V. regiment."

"Wonderful. More boys to crowd the tents!" She said, glancing back at her silent sibling. "No offense, of course, Danny." He didn't answer, too busy staring at a field of lilacs that they were walking by.

"Thinking like a girly-man, Danny? Are you going to stick them in your hair and prance around for us?" Tucker teased, following Danny's gaze. The other boy didn't answer for a moment, just staring, unfocused, at the flowers.

"No." He said finally, as if barely registering the question. "They just remind me of her…"

"Who?" Jazz asked, slowing down to walk beside the two. She giggled, thinking that it was a girl back home that had her brother so enthralled.

"I don't know. It's just this girl's face, staring at me in my dreams. I think she's talking to me, but the only thing I remember when I wake up is the most **beautiful** lilac eyes." Tucker and Jazz exchanged looks, clearly bewildered. Tucker hadn't stayed in the Fentons' hometown long, but even he knew that there wasn't a girl with lilac eyes anywhere around there. In fact, he could only remember ever seen that color of eyes once before, but for the life of him he couldn't picture on whom.

Danny finally looked at them, a sheepish smile sprawled across his face. "Stupid, huh?" Tuck was about to answer with how strange it was, but Jazz spoke before he could.

"It's not stupid at all. I think it's really romantic; don't you Kitrina?" The two men looked over at the newest arrival to their group, a blonde-haired, green eyed young woman around Jazz's age that was dressed in a green nurse's uniform.

"Absolutely. What am I agreeing to again?" She linked arms with Jazz, and the continued on.

"Just that Danny here is seeing a beautiful girl with dazzling lilac eyes in his dreams, Kitty." Jazz giggled again, glancing over at Danny as he blushed.

"Oh, how **magical**! It sounds like true love to me, Jazzie." The girls giggled. "Just think; our little Danny is all grown up and falling in love!" The girls giggled **again**, and Danny decided he had had enough. He interrupted, blushing the color of strawberries.

"Alright, alright. I get it! Now can you please shush? We're almost to the General's Ground, and I don't want the boys to hear." Kitty and Jazz trilled one more time before they fell silent, and they remained comfortably so until they reached the thicket where General Lancer's quarters were, as well as the giant fire where the meetings on progress took place each night. Then the two young ladies split from the boys, sashaying over to where the nurses and doctors were chatting, leaving Danny and Tucker to sit with the other soldiers. There was general hubbub for the few minutes of relaxation, and then everyone fell silent as Lancer stepped out of his tent.

"Gentlemen, Ladies, good morning to you all. I have good news.

"For six months now we have trained here to sharpen our skills and broaden our knowledge of the enemy. We have improved greatly and learned much. Many of you," he looked at Jazz, Kitty, and the rest of the medical staff, "have found out that being in battle means being in pain. Our experts have now fully evolved to handle that pain. Some of you," he looked to Tucker and a few others, "have become our main firing power. You can dispatch a person faster than I have ever seen for youth your age. And a small number of you," here he looked at Danny and two or three others, "have learned the art of disguise. You can turn invisible to the naked eye, or configure yourselves to fit that of whom you must become to fool the enemy. You have learned how to shot, how to hide, how to deceive, how to **survive**. You are the closest thing to a spy, the most important key to winning this war, that I have ever seen without specific training.

"Yet this is not enough. To me, this is kiddy play. And that is why **we **are finally relocating.

"One of each from the three groups that I just listed will go on as scouts each day. At nightfall, you will return and give your progress report, which we as a regiment will then use as we follow the path you have depicted the day before. These people are the best of the best. The medical leader, however, will stay behind. I will explain why in a moment. In her place will be her second; the choice to choose who that will be has been handed over to her.

"Tucker will go as gunman.

"You have all seen the black wonder wander around this camp freely for the past six months. He has saved all of your lives in the small battles we have been in at least once. And while some of you may object, it is too late. It is decided."

Lancer began to talk to Tucker alone, trying to reassure the trembling youth. "It is your duty to kill those who may hinder your journey each day. I have watched you come here, barely able to lift a musket, to being able to load and fire five shots in under three seconds. You are the best man at technology I have **ever** seen. You will do fine." Tucker stuttered a 'thank you' and Lancer went back to speaking to everyone.

"The medical leader, Jasmine Fenton, though only a nurse, has approached me with the offer of scouting ahead. I cannot allow this even if I wanted to. The President himself has stated that we are to inform every battle plan, every move in location, every decision made to the head of medicine to make sure they know what we are getting into. If they have insufficient supplies to prevent as many deaths as possible, we do nothing.

"As such, Jasmine will be staying with the regiment. She has informed me, however, that she has decided that her second-in-command, Kitrina Goodman, will be taking her place as scout doctor. I support this decision in its whole.

"You, Kitrina, will be in charge of doctoring the other two scouts. Should they gain even the slightest cold, we are **all** put in danger. Even the smallest noise can alert the Confederate Army that we are on their battlefield, and they can summon soldiers to them far faster than we can flee. Your part is essential; play it well." Kitty nodded, clutching Jazz's hand in thanks and nervousness. General Lancer sent her a returning nod and continued on.

"That leaves only the intellect. And I will be blunt with you, and tell you that there is only on man for the job: Daniel Fenton.

"Daniel, when he came here, was not someone that I though would live a week in war; he was a klutz and clueless about anything that dealt in military life, not something very encouraging. Yet he has grown not so much physically as mentally strong. He knows how to strategize, and can pick out a friend from an enemy by just one sentence; something that not even a top spy can do till ten years into their career. He takes the time to think, yet knows how to do so swiftly." Lancer began looking directly at Danny, though he seemed to talk to everyone.

"He can hide his emotions, disguise his thoughts, and though he has been rather dazed frequently of late," Danny inwardly blushed, thinking of the lilacs from earlier, even as on the outside he kept a calm air around him. "he has a clear state of mind. He will lead the other two, giving orders and making decisions. His job is essential, as it will decide the trail we as a regiment take. He is the only man worthy of the job." Danny gave no sign of his feelings, but sent a short, jerky nod to the general. Lancer paused, and then went on.

"Soldiers, start packing. Leave no trace that we were here." The troops scurried off, but Lancer motioned for Danny and Tucker to stay. "Jasmine?"

Jazz turned as she heard her name, silently indicating that the medical workers were to follow her as she stood and nodded to Lancer before heading off. Danny, Tucker, and Kitrina, who had assumed that Lancer wanted to talk to all three of them, followed the general into his tent. General Lancer led them over to a table that was covered with a giant map and started to speak.

"I said out there that you were to go and come back each day to report. What I failed to mention was that only Daniel will be returning. He is the fastest, as well as able to shift into his surroundings far better than either of you could. You two will stay at whatever camp Daniel designates each night, to mark where you are stopped so we shall know your trial." Lancer sat down on one of the wooden chairs around the table, waving his hand to the others to get them to sit down before starting again.

"You shall take as little supplies as possible; a gun, gun powder, and other weapons for Tucker. Medical supplies and traveling cakes with Kitrina. A disguise for Danny and a sling. You will all carry one extra set of clothes and any money you might need when you finally reach your destination. Nothing else.

"You are not to fire your gun unless to hinder anyone who may try to prevent you from reaching the final point of destination, or to stop someone who may harm you. Use the sling to gather fowl or small animals, though only one at a time. It would be suspicious for prey to suddenly start dying off unnaturally. Always throw the remains to the wolves or other predators; leave no trace of human kill. Wash the stones you sling of blood if you have to.

"Stay near water or at least a spring; you and the regiment both will need water, and we can cross over to lose any trackers. Other than that, travel decisions are up to Daniel." General Lancer paused, grabbing on of the marking pins for the map and twirling it as Tucker and Kitrina looked over at Danny. He set his jaw and nodded once, which Lancer took as a sign to continue. "When you reach your destination, I want you to take up posts. Act in disguise as a traveling family―"

"And servant." Tucker put in, sticking his hand out as if to remind the general of his race.

"And servant. Danny will report to me one last time, and then return to you; you'll have to make up a story to cover that. Then we as a brigade will wait a few days before coming to the edge of the forest; I hope not to let people know we are there at all, but even if there are other militias around the region, it would still seem suspicious of a Union regiment to show up the day after a new family moves to town."

"If you don't mind, sir…" Lancer gestured for Kitrina to continue. "you seem to be skirting around the name of the town itself. Where is it? What is our destination?" Lancer sighed as he stopped the motion of the pin in his hand and leaned forward.

"Amity Town, North Carolina." And he stuck the pin on the location according to the map.

"**WWWHHHAAATTT?!?!?!**"


	2. Chapter 2

Crossing Borders

**Chapter Two**

**Love, S.M.**

Sam sighed as she made her way down the grand staircase, listening to the annoying chatter of her mother going on and on about the 'wedding'. Now she was going to have to go through an entire breakfast hearing her mother's high, irritating voice speak of flowers and dates and dresses.

The date for the 'wedding' had yet to be decided, which Sam thanked her lucky stars for. Dashar, or Dash, seemed to be resisting their joining as much as she was. '_It's not like we have a choice, though. Not with Vlad in the way._' Vlad Masters was Dash and his younger sister Starra Anne's guardian, as well as the richest man in Amity Town. He had power over everyone and everything, and he put that fact to great use often. With his control over Dash's land until he turned twenty-five riding on his belt as well, Vlad always got what he wanted. And he wanted a marriage between Sam and Dash. '_Only so he can control our land as well. Sneaky jerk._' Sam thought bitterly, the truth of her situation making her view of things dim. She was her parent's sole heir, and thus whoever she married would get immediate control over the property she claimed as an inheritance, which would be Dash, or technically Vlad, if they were wed. Sam turned toward the parlor, brought out of her reverie at her mother's uncommonly loud shriek about something to do with a date.

"But you see, Lady Manson," Sam grinned at the sound of a familiar voice, laced with the brightness of starlight. "We cannot use that day, as it―" the voice paused, choked for words, and the sound of a politely cleared voice reached out to Sam as she opened the elegant wooden door to the parlor. "―as it is the anniversary of our parents' deaths. It would be too painful to have what should be a joyous occasion on such a painful day."

"Of course not, Starra Anne. How rude of us to recommend such a thing! We shall just have to find another date, shall we not, Mother?" Said Sam, walking into the room and shooting a patronizing glance at her mother. "I am sorry to remind you of such terrible memories, Starra Anne. I promise it will not occur again." Sam walked over to the blonde, gracefully sitting down and taking the girl's hand in her own.

"Of― of course, darling. We'll just have to find another day..." Lady Manson stammered, flustered to have even suggested such an impolite comment, but returned to her annoyingly sunny personality as soon as she turned her thoughts back to the wedding. "What about―"

"How are you, Dash, Star?" Sam politely but forcefully cut her mother off, turning to look at her 'fiancé', who looked unbelievably bored. "And where is Mr. Masters?" She had noticed the absence of the foreboding figure immediately upon entering the room and had just barely been able to hide her relief. She picked up a rose that had been sitting in a vase near her, thorns intact, and began to twirl it lightly to ease the tension of the other two youth at the mention of their guardian. They never spoke of it, but Sam was almost sure that Mr. Masters abused the siblings, if not physically then mentally and spiritually, forcing them to be the perfect models of society to make his image appear all the better.

Sam caught Star's gaze easily as the blonde shifted in her seat uncomfortably, drawing her eyes down to the rose in her hand. Starra Anne nodded, barely moving her had at all in her stiff posture. "He will be here shortly, Samantha. He had a few… guests… that needed to be settled and then all of them will be coming here for breakfast." Star shuddered and Dash came out of his misery just enough to glance in concern at his younger sibling. "He sent Dash and I ahead, knowing that you would **anxiously** be awaiting your fiancé's arrival." Sam hurriedly covered an unlady-like snort and Dash, previously sulking with boredom after his show of concern subsided, stuffed a fist into his mouth to stop his laughter. Star laughed openly at the two's antics, and Sam glared at her friend half-mockingly, glad that the younger girl had managed to ease the tension.

Lady Manson looked between the three in open confusion, not understanding that what Star had said had been loaded with sarcasm. Starra Anne, noticing the woman's glance, gestured to Sam and Dash discreetly, brushing her hand against the vase of roses as she lowered the hand she had raised to cover her mouth in her laughter. Samantha and her 'fiancé' both got the hidden meaning and they settled back into their seats, Sam twirling the rose she still had in her hand slightly harder.

The three started lightly talking of a social they had gone to the night before last, and Mrs. Manson gazed on approvingly as Sam talked to Dash longer than ever before, her moment of confusion forgotten. "―and what of Bethany? Rumor has it that she was―"

"Starting to gain weight… yes. I noticed she wore a slightly larger gown that normal. I wonder who…?"

"I've heard it was―"

"Ahhh!" Sam cried out as the thorn finally pierced her skin, and both Dash and Star rushed over to her, anxious and joyous at the same time.

"What is the matter, darling? What happened?" Lady Manson cried, rushing over and trying to see what damage had been done to her daughter. Dash and Star both blocked her, not wanting her to see Sam's, or their own, grins of relief.

"Nothing, m-mother." The girl said, lacing her voice with over-abounding amounts of pain. "The― the rose's thorn just pierced my― my skin. I'll be al-alright." Dashar and Starra Anne almost burst into uncontrollable laughter at Sam's acting, and she sent them a wink.

"No, no, darling! You need to get it bandaged, taken care of, doctored!" Sam almost jumped up screeching in jubilation at the mention of such freedom, but Star put a hand on her shoulder, jolting her back to reality. Had she been left to her excitement, Sam would have jumped for joy and did an **extremely** unlady-like dance right then, but instead she was forced to only take a deep breath and then nod to her companion conspirators for them to start their part.

"I'll take Samantha to Valerie. She should know how to handle **poor** Sam's condition." Star said dramatically, standing along with Sam and pulling her handkerchief from her stylish handbag and pressing it to the wound.

"And I'll take the roses this one came from and go find the slave that picked them." Dashar picked up the vase, taking care to watch the thorns, and placed the bloodied rose in their midst.

"Alright, darling. But don't hurt them, alright? Everyone knows that I love wild roses, and they were just trying to please me. Wouldn't you want to do the same?" Sam replied, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly and looking at him, trying not to throw up at the sweetness of it all.

"Of course, lovely; whatever you want." Dash leant over and kissed her on the cheek; Lady Manson looked on, beaming, but Dashar, Samantha, and Starra Anne all mentally gagged. "I'll come and see how you are later today. Goodbye Starra Anne, Lady Manson." And Dash left the room, flowers in hand and practically running for his life.

Sam and Star gazed after him for a moment, and then turned back to each other. Samantha started to raise her hand to tuck a piece of black hair behind her ear, but stopped when she felt Starra Anne's hand holding the handkerchief in place.

"I thing we should go find Valerie, Star. Would you excuse us please, Mother?"

"Of course, darling. But try to hurry, Samantha dear; Mr. Masters and his guests should be here in a short while for breakfast."

"Of course, Lady Manson. I won't let her forget. Come on, Samantha." The two began walking towards the opposite door that Dashar had gone through, this one leading up to Samantha's room. Lady Manson gazed after them for a moment, and then turned toward the study where her husband was bound to be; she didn't catch the last spoken phrase exchanged between the two girls, however.

"You know, that really **did** hurt."

* * *

**Forever, D.F.**

'Rustle, rustle, **CRACK**!'

"Shhh!"

"Sorry!"

'Rustle, stomp, rustle, rustle, **CRACK**!'

"**Shhh**!"

"I'm **sorry**!"

'Rustle, rustle'… silence. 'Rustle, rustle, rustle, **CRACK**!'

"That's **it**! Take off your boots, **now**!"

"What?!"

"You heard him, Dimwit, take off your boots!"

"Why should I?!"

"'Cause he's in charge, Doodoo brain!!"

"I'm not a Doodoo brain! Or a Dimwit!"

"Then take off your boots!"

"You're not my mother!"

"Yeah, thank heavens, but **he's** your captain! He said take off your boots, so take off your boots!"

"What if I don't want to?!"

"Too bad! You have to you…"

Danny rolled his eyes, only half-listening to the whispered yet heated argument behind him. Suddenly he froze, a sound that neither of his fighting companions heard booming in his ears like a fired musket. He stood still a moment longer and then he whirled around, startling his oblivious friends into silence. They stared at him, stunned, and Tucker began to speak, but Danny cut him off before he could utter a word.

"Boots off, **now**! Someone's here. Get in a tree; stay there until I call. **Now**!" They bent down quickly to do what he said, and when they looked up a second later he had gone, vanished into thin air. Tucker looked around for a suitable tree that would hold both of them and then helped to boost Kitty up. There was silence as they listened for any sign of Danny or what he had heard, knowing it was in vain. Even the trees were silent; no one could hear Danny when he was trying to be silent.

Kitty pulled a piece of heavy paper, scraps from a carton that had held traveling cakes in it, and began to write with a quill easily. Tucker leaned over her shoulder, trying to sound out the unfamiliar words in his head.

'I hate when he does this.' Tucker sent her a nod and took the pen from her hand, unsteadily holding it as he roughly wrote:

'I no. He bee cluts, butt he gud. Lik gost.' Kitrina red the kiddy print and then they both returned to listening.

The three of them had been out scouting for only three weeks, and it seemed like they had hardly moved to Kitty. Tucker, who was extremely reluctant to reach their destination in the first place, was dragging his feet as much as possible. Danny set a firm pace, however, and they made the same ground numbers each day.

When the little party had first started out, they had barely uttered five words in an entire day, terrified beyond belief of what would happen if they were discovered. But their nerve had grown each day, and now Tucker and Kitty argued so much that Danny was tempted to strangle them more than once, preferably with the numerous twigs they broke each day. Instead he stayed unbelievably quiet, speaking only to give orders at night or to tell them when he heard something. He had begun to speak quite frequently of late, warning them up into trees or behind bushes at the sound of something neither Kitty nor Tucker ever heard. Then he would disappear, just like he had done right at this moment, returning an hour or two later without telling them what he had seen or heard.

Kitrina and Tuck both became extremely unnerved at these vanishing acts, but everything else seemed to roll along like a normal day, besides the fact that they were living in the woods and preying off of animals they hadn't expected to eat when they joined the military. Each morning Danny, having wandered back from giving his progress report to General Lancer, would wake them up, showing no sign of his own fatigue or exhaustion. Kitty would hand out a meager breakfast of traveling cakes (flat rectangles of ground nuts and wheat) and they would eat as they packed camp. Before leaving Danny would make sure that they had left no sign that someone had ever been there besides a green piece of cloth tied onto a tree branch that Lancer would pick up when he found it and return to Danny when he next came to give his report.

Then they would travel, their only interruption Danny's little disappearing acts, before setting up camp at whatever spot Danny chose. A dingy dinner of usually pheasant, killed by Danny with his sling, cooked by Tucker, and cleaned up by Kitty followed the set up before Danny vanished to report back to Lancer as Tuck and Kitty bedded down for the night.

Kitrina and Tucker, who had both fallen asleep up in the tree, were abruptly awoken by the sound of a purple flinch, Danny's whistle of upcoming allies, and they both hopped out of the tree as he materialized from behind a bush to their right, ten feet over from where they had heard the call.

"Set up camp. We're staying here." Danny whispered, throwing his pack on a clear spot of ground and unpacking quickly.

"**What**?!" They both shouted quietly, careful not to raise their voices above a whisper. What was he talking about? By the sun, it was only around three in the afternoon, and they never stopped before the sun had eclipsed their sight, leaving them to wonder in the darkness for a good hour!

Danny shot them an irritated look as he unrolled his sleeping mat, sighed, and tried to skirt around the question. "I just… I have to talk to Lancer. Something's come up…" He winced as he felt a twinge of pain in his right calf when he squatted down by his pack and Kitty hurriedly crouched down beside him, worried at his surprising show of pain. Usually he kept his features cool and collected, never letting anyone in on the fact that he was hurt unless it became just too much to bare.

"I'm **fine**." He said firmly before she could speak, dodging away from her quickly so that she wouldn't see the nasty cut he had obtained. '_I was so stupid, I should have known not to_―' Danny cut himself off of the mental self-bashing, snatching a traveling cake out of her open knapsack and turning to go. "Set up camp; I'll be back in the morning. **Don't **leave this site." And he hurried off, silently moving through the trees at an unbelievable speed and not making a single twig nap even as he winced every time he stepped on his right leg, extremely aware that the wound had split open again and was adding to the dried blood that already covered his skin.

Soon, some four hours after he had left Tucker and Kitty, he began to hear sounds of quiet human life. Fires (the sun having just gone down not an hour ago) were softly crackling around him, and munches of traveling cakes popped from behind bushes suspiciously. '_At least they've learned to spread out._..' Danny though, thinking of their first attempts of hiding a regiment in a forest. Sleeping pads, hazardly thrown on any clear patch of ground, started popping up in Danny's path as he hurried toward the center of camp and every once in a while a snore could be heard up above him in the trees. Soon a single tent, adorned with a large red cross, appeared ahead of him and he hurried toward it.

"Jazz!" He whispered quietly, poking his head through the tent flaps and trying to look around for his sister without alerting the other medical personnel.

"Danny? What are you doing here?! It's too early…" Jazz asked, coming over to where Danny's head was showing through and exiting the tent with him. Her nurse's uniform was wrinkled and dirty, brown stains littering the front. "Danny! What happened to your leg?!"

"Nothing, just come on." Danny said simply, trying to ignore the stinging pain that had sprung up when she had mentioned it. And he had almost managed to forget how much it hurt… He started sprinting toward the temporary General's Ground at the very center of camp, slowly leaving Jazz behind as they dodged the surrounding trees.

When they approached the general's quarters they saw a small gathering of soldiers, most of them unable to sleep and thus sprawled out on the forest floor as they listened to Lancer talk of his youth in the militia, uneventful yet exciting in those times. "We had to take care of― Daniel! What are you doing here?!" Lancer cried, shocked as Danny and Jazz both ran up, the redhead gasping for breath.

"**We need to talk**." Danny stated firmly, jaw clenched and back straight as he avoided looking at anyone except the general. Everyone burst into speech at his demand, some stunned at his courage but most sarcastic at his stupidity, taking bets on how furious General Lancer would become; his temper was legendary in West Virginia. "I'm sorry, sir, but **now**!" Danny persisted, trying to communicate to Lancer the real urgency of the situation with his eyes.

"…Alright." The troops in the clearing gasped, surprised at the general's acceptance. "**Decease**!" Lancer ordered, and he stood and walked into his tent as the soldiers scrambled away. The two siblings followed after him, thumping down on the wooden chairs around the map-covered table. "Well, Daniel? What's so urgent that you came running here this soon? A Confederate troop heading this way? One of your companions has been killed? What?" Lancer asked staring hard at the young man.

"Worse, general." Danny said grimly, a hard glint entering his eyes. Jazz stared at her brother, worried, as she tried to figure out what had scared her sibling so badly.

"**Worse**?! What can be worse than an attack or a death, boy?!" Lancer bellowed, his face rapidly turning red in his growing anger.

"A man, sir." Danny said firmly, a hard edge entering his voice.

"**A man**?! That's not terrifying, boy!"

"He's injured, sir."

"**SO**?!?! All the better! He'll die in the woods. No one will know of us!"

"You don't understand, general. It's Johnny Two-Sides. He's **back**."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Hey look, I actually remembered to put one of these! Anyways, simple stuff. Sorry it took me sooo long to post this chapter, but I had actually written most of Sam's part and then tore it up because I didn't like it, and then I had the WORST case of writer's block ever. Please forgive me! Oh, and so I don't end up getting in trouble: I have never owned Danny Phantom, do not own Danny Phantom, and will only EVER own Danny Phantom in my dreams... so, yeah. I have nothing else to say. Read on!

* * *

Crossing Borders

**Chapter Three**

**Love, S.M.**

"Dash... haha… k―kissed… haha HA!... y―you!!! Hahahahahaha!" Sam grimaced as she rubbed an unbearably hot cloth over her cheek, trying to ignore the wild laughter that rang out behind her. Snakes still seem to crawl under her skin from the memory of Dash's kiss, and she slammed the hand with the facecloth down on the writing desk she sat in front of, glaring at the reflection of her overly red cheek in the mirror.

There was a moment's pause and then the full shock of the pain her hand had gone through came rushing at her, slamming her body with agony. "O―ow…" A whimper escaped her and she bit her lip, trying not to scream.

Valerie and Star, the ones who had been rolling in fits of laughter on Sam's bed, both sat up sharply at the 'thump' that echoed off the table, glancing worriedly at the ebony-haired young woman as she cradled her hand softly. "Are you alright?!" Starra Anne asked hurriedly as she scrambled awkwardly off the four-poster bed and ran over to her brother's fiancé. Val followed quickly after her and they both peered down at Sam's rapidly swelling hand.

"Oh my! I think something might be broken!" Valerie cried, gently taking the other girl's hand in her own and softly adding pressure to the blackening portion of the limb. Pain shot through the left side of Samantha's hand and she bit her lip harder, a small sob escaping from her throat. "Oh, I think we need a doctor! Star, go and get the Master, he should know what to do." Star got up off her knees quickly and ran out the bedroom door, all thought of etiquette flying from her mind as she rushed to follow the slave's orders.

Sam moaned softly as her hand shifted, closing her eyes at the tremendous amount of agony it cause her. "I'm going to go get something cold that you can put on it." Valerie told Sam quietly, trying, and failing, to painlessly rest the girl's hand on the cloth now resting on the writing desk. Sam nodded tensely and breathed through her nose as she watched Val run out of the room, keeping the rest of her body as still as possible.

As soon as the black had disappeared down the hallway Sam hunched over her hand and screamed into her skirt, shot upon shot of pain coursing through her. She had hid her actual pain from the other girls so they wouldn't panic, but the silence that followed her friends' departure was enough to finally break her shaky control. She let herself cry uncontrollably for a short time, rhythmatically rocking back and forth on her seat to the painful thrumming her hand sent through her.

Sam slowly became aware of the world again as her hand finally numbed enough for her to lift it off its perch and she opened her eyes, angrily wiping them free of tears as she berated herself for her weakness. Suddenly she spotted something creeping along the fringe of the forest outside her window and she jerked her eyes, still red and puffy from her tears, towards the area where she had seen the slight movement.

A tall, lean man was making his way across the outermost edge of the forest, not creeping as she had first assumed but walking around as if the world worshipped him. He was too far away for Samantha to see exactly who it was, but when he took something off of the belt that was holding his long white overcoat clasped together (it looked something like a long, plaited rope that glinted like metal) and started to flip it at one of the nearby slaves Sam fumed with recognition. The victim, a corn-picker Sam thought was named Arella, had paused to stretch her back after being bent over for hours on end only to cry out as the liquid-metal rope struck her across her back continuously and left bloody gashes behind.

Sam growled as she watched the middle-age woman fall to her knees in agony and clenched her one good hand into a white-knuckled fist. "**Walker!**"

Walker was the Manson's head overseer, earning the position only because of the slaves' obedience for fear of his liquid-metal whip, the only thing known around Amity that could rip the flesh and blood from its target's bones. He was thin and pale with a sickly look to his sunken-in eyes, his grungy black hair nearly always hidden by a white hat that shaded his too skinny face. He had a firm belief that slaves were to be forced to follow a certain set of rules like animals, and Valerie and the now-absent Tucker had been subject to his metal-whip more times than almost any other slave on Sam's family's plantation, only one of the countless reasons for Sam to detest him.

Samantha jumped off her seat and moved closer to the window, eyes narrowed as she watched the cruel overseer walk away calmly from the fallen Arella, never glancing back. All of the other pickers waited until they were sure Walker was truly gone before rushing over to her, but Sam was only vaguely aware of three slaves picking up the woman and carrying her into the forest. Instead she focused her soul on following Walker's path around the edge of the trees, jaw clenched as she watched him glance around briefly and then swiftly turn and start off into the woods around him.

Sam's eyes opened wide in shock as she witnessed the man's sudden departure (something that was **strongly** against his self-proclaimed rules) and she started forward unconsciously, climbing atop the armchair that sat in front of the window to lift the glass. She gasped as a flash of pain flew through her injured left hand but she continued on, lifting her many skirts and stepping through the opening to slide herself down on the small balcony that had been placed there purely for decoration.

Her hand still protesting, Sam grabbed onto a nearby vine of ivy, pushing the pain back into a corner of her mind. Glancing down for just a second in concern for her hidden feet, she seated herself on the low wall (ivy rope held in a death-grip between her hands) and swung herself around so that her legs hung out in open space. With a deep breath, Samantha squeezed her eyes tightly shut and slid off the rail into open air with only a vine of ivy, a faulty hand, and petticoat-covered feet to support her.

Suddenly her slippered feet hit brick and she gritted her teeth as her crippled hand protested intensely at the sudden weight and tears sprang up into her eyes yet again.

Violently shoving the pain back into that little corner of her mind, (something that was becoming increasingly hard to do) Sam slowly made her way down the side of the manor. She could clearly remember all of the times she, Tucker, and Valerie had escaped the horrible world they lived in to go explore the forest, something that had been considered safe until all the chaos the war brought on captured Amity in its depths. Then again, everything had been different before the war; Tucker had still been with them instead of off wondering in unknown lands trying to join a regiment that probably wouldn't accept him because of his skin, the three of them had used the 'secret escape' to run away from Samantha's annoying mother, not chasing after a cruel slave-driver to make sure he wasn't doing some misdeed, Star's parents wouldn't had 'accidentally' been shot after disagreeing with how the Confederacy was dealing with the war but would instead be alive so Dash and Sam wouldn't have to be forced into a marriage neither wanted. And, of course, Sam would be scaling the wall in trousers and using **two** able hands instead of multiple layers of useless petticoats and trying not to fall to her death because of a faulty hand.

Just as Sam felt that her hand could support her no farther her foot, reaching for the next crack in the wall, brushed against soil and she finally opened her eyes and glanced down, hopping lightly to the ground once she was reassured it was indeed there. She seemed to forget for a moment what exactly she had risked breaking her neck for in her celebration of **not** breaking her neck (she never had been the brave one; Tucker was stupidly brave and Valerie was bravely stupid, but Sam was just **cautious**), before she spotted the blood-stained dirt some fifty feet ahead of her and she was back to business.

Off she went, running absentmindedly past amused pickers that watched without surprise at her unlady-like behavior. Sam may not have thought, nor even been allowed to think, of escaping into the forest with her unusual companions since Tucker had left, but most had seen them run past so many times now that it was nothing for them to speculate at anymore. It had just never occurred with Sam rushing around in a hideous excuse of a dress that she never would have willingly touched purely because of the fact that it was totally and disgustingly pink!

And yet soon Samantha had passed all the slaves and was on the fringe of the forest, eyes trained on the soil floor as she searched for the large, deep-set footprints she knew only Walker would wear. Once found, she was able to follow them easily, weaving through the giant oaks with a practiced air. Sam trailed them, and upon some unrecognizable instinct she swept the path away with a tree branch, covering her light, almost undistinguishable prints as well as Walker's barbarian-sized ones with scuffs of dirt.

Some twenty minutes had passed before Sam finally seemed to catch up to Walker and she slowed, listening for noised she knew didn't belong in her peaceful green paradise. Soon enough she could hear leaves cracking (someone shuffling nervously under a tree) and the sound of harsh breathing. Sam crouched down, making sure not to make any noise, just like she would have done had she, Tuck, and Val been playing 'Hide me, Find me' and settled in to listen.

By all the noise coming from the clearing just beyond her tree, Sam could tell at least two dozen people were present, some injured by the sound of their grunts of agony, and none were used to being in the forest. Samantha gave herself just enough room to see around her oak, and what greeted her eyes didn't startle her but certainly angered her.

At least a dozen blacks, most injured, were tethered together like animals, watched over by six incredibly brutish men armed with guns and hand-knives. Four other men, all tense and untrusting, stood facing each other silently. One of them was Walker, his hand perched on his liquid-metal whip as he leered at the nearby prisoners. The others she couldn't see well, but one man, bulging with muscles and armed to the teeth with some of the strangest weapons ever, stood like a soldier, guarding over the man to his right, who had to have been of the hated yet tolerated Spanish blood.

The last man, standing to the left of Walker, was completely obscured from Sam and she huffed silently in annoyance before trying to shift her weight to see around the rail-thin overseer in her way. Just as she did, however, the Spaniard started to speak in rough English, startling her and almost making her fall over before she caught herself on the tree.

Hissing silently as her already abused hand scrapped against the ragged bark, Sam clenched it into a fist to try and hold off some of the sting as she tried to hear what the foreigner had to say. Shoving the pain back into the little corner in her mind was impossible, Sam could tell; she was mentally exhausted and had no choice but to struggle through the pain.

"Ah, seniõre, I have,… brought… delivery? Yes, delivery, fine delivery…pay?"

"Mmm, yes fine delivery, Mr. Sanchez, its fine… Now the only thing left to do is discuss how much these animals are worth, then, yes?" The hidden figure finally stepped forward and Sam nearly flew into a rage at who was revealed, a growl escaping her throat instead.

"**VLAD!!!**"

* * *

**Forever, D.F.**

"Stop wiggling!"

"I'm trying! It hurts like― ow!!! If you'd be **gentle** I co― Ouch! Watch it, lady!"

"Oh, be quiet, or I'll put **another** hole through you!"

"But darlin', you're not supposed to **hurt **your patients!... Ouch!"

"There; now go away, traitor."

Danny sighed as he heard the crystal-clear yelling echo around the trees as he drew closer to camp, an armful of wood cradled against his chest. Silence had long been devoid of their little troupe for almost three weeks, and he had finally given up on getting it back.

When he had told General Lancer who was **really** injured in the woods, Danny had to physically restrain the older man from grabbing his nearby musket and shooting the invalid till he was beyond recognition. Not that Danny could blame the general; Johnny Two-Sides had quite the revolting past.

Johnny, before he had joined the war, had originally been known as Jonathon Smith, a blacksmith's son living in Danny's hometown. When his mother, Mary, passed away his father turned violent, beating the boy to cover his own pain caused by his beautiful wife's death. Finally, unable to bare it any longer, Jonathon ran away and joined a regiment, becoming a gunman in the one place his blacksmith father would never to think to look for his cowardly son.

His father's feelings had been proven right during Johnny's first battle, where the boy officially earned the name that would stick with him forever, even now at the age of twenty-one. Johnny had marched into the battle, uniform gleaming and gun held proudly in his arms, only to jump at the first gunshot and run for the closest cover. By the time he had finally gained enough courage to return to his post, his regiment was retreating and a Confederate soldier had discovered him in his hiding place.

In order to save his skin Johnny agreed to fight for the Confederacy, thinking stupidly that since they had won that battle, they would win the rest. Of course, that vision was quickly torn to shreds when the Union easily defeated Johnny's new brigade and took the traitor captive. He resorted back to saving his own neck instead of standing up for his fellow Confederate soldiers, and told the Union victors that he had been tortured until agreeing to fight for the enemy.

And so he gained his new name, repeatedly switching sides to the winning end until both armies seemed to realize his actions, immediately causing a hatred so strong no one dared mention his name.

"Grrr! How I **detest** that man!" Danny was yanked from his thoughts by Kitty's voice, laced with venom and dislike. Danny set down his stack of firewood near the tiny fire Tucker had managed to start with flint and a pile of twigs, throwing the blonde girl a sympathetic glance as he gingerly placed a log onto the yellow flames.

Poor Kitty had been burdened with the traitor's care at the order of a harshly chastised Lancer, who, upon calming enough to be rational if not reasonable, hadn't wanted the gutless soldier anywhere near the camouflaged brigade. Instead the trio had been reluctantly turned into a quartet, and their movements slowed so much that Danny, who now only reported to Lancer every **other** night, was starting to feel strained with the fact that they were making what was once one day's travel over three.

"At least you won't have to deal with him much longer, Kitty. Not once we reach… **there**." Tucker still seemed to fear his old town, refusing to mention it as if it would put some sort of curse on his new life. "You can throw him in prison and leave it to them to deal with the tramp."

Tucker was right about that at least. With the pace they had fallen into over the last three weeks, it should actually only take them another few days of so to reach Amity Town. They **would **have been there a week ago, except for Johnny and his… condition.

That thought had Danny looking up at Kitty's ungrateful charge, taking in his downtrodden appearance. He had long, shaggy blonde hair that was dirty and matted, and too-wide, pain-filled green eyes took up a good portion on his face. Said face, which had been ghostly pale and bone-thin, was just barely starting to fill out from the food Danny's sling provided, but had yet to regain whatever coloring he may have originally had. That may have been because of the blood-soaked bandage that was currently wrapped around his right hip, however.

That injury had actually been how Danny first discovered Two-Sides, noticing first drops of blood on his way to report to Lancer that hadn't been there when he, Kitty, and Tucker had passed and then noises in the forest around them that definitely shouldn't have been there. It was also the reason Danny had even dared tell the general that he had found Johnny. Later asked, Johnny would bashfully tell how he had obtained the bullet wound, but only if out of earshot of the sarcastic Kitrina.

Johnny, who's most recent 'mercenary' work had been as a medic under an assumed name for the Confederate Army, had fled for his life when one of his older fighting comrades had been transferred to his unit as a lieutenant so as not to be recognized as the traitor he was. Instead he left his camp (which had only been some ten days west of Amity Town) and traveled through the forest in an arc until he happened to stumble upon a patrol of Union officers who, upon spotting his Confederate cap, open fired. Johnny was able to escape from the soldiers, but not before acquiring a bullet in his hip and another that grazed his left shoulder.

He wondered the forest in agony until he miraculously came upon the little scouting group eating a pheasant Danny had hit, drawn by the smell of cooked meat. Seeing that one carried a gun and another seemed to be able to disappear from sight at the slightest movement cautioned Johnny to refrain from approaching them, however. Instead he followed after them for weeks, trying to remain hidden until they reached their destination , wherever it was to be. There he would be able to get medical aid and food before starting out to find another regiment to scam.

Infection soon set into his hip, though, and his injury and his growing hunger betrayed him more day by day. Soon Danny was able to roughly track where Johnny was and he tried to discover his exact location on his disappearing acts Tucker and Kitty worried so much about. But when Danny finally got it right, it wasn't the enemy troupe he had feared, though the person he had found was just as bad, maybe even worse.

Johnny, whose body could take it no longer, passed out in a clearing in a high fever, not even reaching the tree he had been struggling towards on his knees in hope of sleep. Danny found him there, still unconscious and breathing in labored, coughing fits, when the sudden silence of the unnatural noises stopping told the Union soldier something was wrong. Not immediately recognizing who it was when Danny finally came to the clearing, he crept slowly forward, trying to get a good glimpse of the wild-looking man laying there. He had just gotten up close enough to where he could peer at the pulsing green bullet hole only to regret his actions.

The ebony-haired youth immediately felt a stinging pain in his lower leg and he stumbled back, staring, shocked, at the suddenly conscious traitor before the actual pain of his injured calf came coursing through him, waking him from his stupor and his stoic, emotionless face came instantly back.

Danny had calmly knocked Johnny back unconscious with a firm press to the wounded man's hip and went to get the fuming Lancer's orders without dealing, only to have to then return to the slumbering traitor and drag him slowly back to the trio's camp. There Kitty and Ticker watched, stunned beyond words, as he placed the man on his own sleeping mat and started to rid Johnny of his shirt, emotionally unaware of the injured man's gasps and cries of pain.

It took him a good hour to pull the blood-soaked cloth from the injury, where it had formed a type of suffocating second skin to protect his frail body, but once he had Kitty hurried to take care of the stranger (she had yet to realize the true identity of her new patient), pressing a fresh cloth to the pulsing wound. As the bleeding finally slowed, she risked looking at the infected sore, quickly coming to the conclusion that she would be unable to remove the bullet without the proper equipment, which she wouldn't have access to until they reached Amity.

Danny suddenly became aware of the smell of eggs, glancing over at Kitrina as she cooked then in the small metal pan that Jazz had given them in secret before they had started out (they really weren't even supposed to be having a fire big to glow on a tree five feet away, but they had broken that rule when Kitty realized that Johnny would die without warmth to chase off the chill that accompanied his fever). Sitting nearby, recently skinned by Tuck, was an undistinguishable bird, which probably came from the same place Kitrina had secured the eggs from. He was dimly aware of Johnny's glare focused on his back (he still hadn't forgiven him for knocking him unconscious, no matter that it had most likely saved his life) but Danny simply ignored the older fellow, instead putting another log on the fire and holding the poor dead bird over the flames.

Dinner cooked and eaten, (the roasted birdie slightly charred; Danny's family didn't have a good history with cooking), as well as their single dish washed (the skillet used to cook the forest eggs in) they quickly started to pack, silently going about a routine they had established since their first day together. Danny threw a shirt at Johnny (he was the only one big enough to share clothes with the man) and set about packing his little gear: a knife, a few changes of clothes that he had been forced to use as a bed for the last few weeks because Johnny was currently occupying his sleeping mat, a small amount of money they were to use to buy the house they were to masquerade as a family in, and the familiar red scarf, which he set to the side out of Johnny's view. Keeping an eye on the traitor, who was painfully trying to wrestle himself into the shirt without hitting his hip or moving his shoulder unless needed, Danny quickly tied the red material onto a branch when Two-Sides had his head buried in the layers of fabric.

So far they had managed to keep the scarf, as well as its meaning, hidden from Johnny; they just need to keep it that way for a few more days and then they'd be fine. Otherwise… Danny shuddered to think of what General Lancer would do to them should Johnny find out about the Union Army slowly making their way through the forest towards Amity.

Danny glanced over at the others to check on their packing, eyes slightly unfocused as he sketched out a vague path for them to follow in his mind. Kitrina had disappeared, probably to change her clothes with the perverted Johnny ogling her, but most of her knapsack was loaded anyways. He could see her med-pack clearly at the top, their little cooking skillet next to it, a knife she refused to wear even though it was supposed to be used for medical purposes only, and two extra sets of clothing. And just peeking underneath all of that was her Union uniform, something none of them had worn since Johnny had come into their midst; luckily he had been so out of it before then that he hadn't even noticed what they wore as he followed after them. Instead they wore the clothes they would have worn once they reached Amity, clothes that weren't exactly fit to be worn traveling in the woods.

The ebony-haired soldier looked away from Kitty's pack right as she walked back into view, a brush and her dirty clothes in her hand. She refused to let her personal hygiene diminish just because they were on a scouting trip, but the clothing… They all had tried to wash their clothes whenever they could in whatever stream they camped besides at night, but cold water could only do so much and in the end the material gathered so much dirt and grease that it was pointless really to even try cleaning them any longer. Danny would have to talk to Lancer about getting some spare money so the three of them could get new clothes when they reached Amity, else no one would believe their charade…

As Kitrina bent down to stuff the last bit of her belongings into her sack Danny glanced over at Jonathon, watching him struggle to roll up Danny's sleeping mat from his strained sitting position. The only other thing he had to his name was the canteen he had beside him; they had hid his musket back with one of the red-scarf tied trees for Lancer to pick up (he had even noticed; he was still going through so many fits of sickness that he didn't really care about anything anymore), and they had burned his Confederate uniform more out of the need to get red of the putrid smell than out of fear of being caught, though they weren't really sure the fumes of the scorching material was worth it afterwards…

Danny caught Kitty's eye as she stood from rolling her own mat, jerking his head over to the determined Johnny. He chuckled and peered around for Tucker as she growled and stormed over to the traitor, yanking the pad (though not hard enough to hurt his injured shoulder) from his shaky hands and briskly rolling it up. The blonde-haired man gave her a mockingly loving look, causing him to yelp as she unhesitantly pushed him roughly onto his back.

Tucker was currently climbing an oak tree, (Danny could see a nest somewhere near the middle), never breaking his pace as he nimbly moved from branch to branch. He had never told Danny where he had learned to do that, but he had a feeling that the black had spent most of his childhood in the forest by the way he maneuvered through it so smoothly. Tuck's rifle was strapped to his back (something that they were careful to keep away from Johnny though he showed no desire to use it; they had yet to use it, and all of them wanted to keep it that way) and his already closed pack lay at the base of the tree. Daniel already knew what was in it, though. Enough gun powder and shots to take down a small army (Tucker showed no strain when carrying it however; he must have had a very labored chore when he was a slave not to break a sweat from all that weight. Danny certainly did), three changes of clothes, a knife that he hardly ever took off, though he didn't have it on now, and two hair ribbons, one yellow and one orange, that he slept with clenched in his hands over his heart at night.

The black came back down right after he placed a pouch (made from whatever feathers the bird once had woven together quickly) into the bird nest Danny had spotted, jumping down and scuffing away the boot prints he had made. Danny stood and they both walked over to the fire, covering it with sand and water before quickly chucking the smoldering logs into the stream with their hands covered by their shirts and scrapping away the ashes, leaving no trace that a fire had ever been there.

Kitty saw their motions, the signal they were about to leave, and bent down to pick up a long stick, carved by Danny on one of his trips to Lancer for Johnny to use a crutch. As soon as they finished with the fire Tuck and Danny hurried over to the other man, lifting him onto his feet as softly as they could, though it still sent Johnny into wave upon wave of agony. Kitrina secured the crutch under his arm and quickly tied a makeshift sling over his arm to keep it from moving, standing on her toes to reach behind his neck. He bent down slightly so she wouldn't have to reach as far and his lips skimmed her neck, causing her to jerk back and refuse to meet his eyes, blushing slightly. Danny and Tucker, who had failed to notice the embarrassing moment, sent her a puzzled look, but she bent down hastily and picked up Johnny's canteen, her hair hiding her bashful face.

With Kitrina finished getting Johnny ready Danny and Tucker let go of him, standing nearby only a second until the older man got his balance, and then they all went for their supplies and belongings. Danny picked up the blood-stained mat Johnny had been sleeping on and strapped it to his back and then lifted his own pack, waiting for the others to get secure.

Everyone looked around once more to check that they had left nothing behind and that it looked like just another part in the forest, never betraying the fact that someone had slept there the night before. A few drops of blood remained where Johnny had slept but they ignored those, instead started slowly off, heading in whatever direction Danny chose.

As they traveled an easy silence fell upon them all, only interrupted by Johnny's sharp breathing or Danny's hiss of pain at a branch or bush scrapping across his still-injured calf. Every once in a while they would pause, either for Johnny to rest and catch his breathe or for Danny to go and try and get a glimpse of the stream they were supposed to be following, but for the most part a steady pace was set. Even if it was slower than what any of them, especially Johnny, who felt he was being babied, desired.

By the time mid-afternoon came, however, they had slowed significantly, and Danny was beginning of thinking of a place to stop for the day. Johnny had gone farther than he ever had before on his crutch, and Danny himself was starting to feel the strain on his leg, slowly throbbing out a steady rhythm. Tucker had taken the lead however, and at the moment he was too far up for Danny to get his attention; he didn't dare yell at the black lest someone heard. No matter how far Danny felt they still were from their destination, there was always the chance slave-catchers were in the area, and even the quietest yell could alert them to the quartet's presence, something that wouldn't turn out well for Tucker.

And so Danny decided to continue on a little farther until Tucker came back to check on them and see if they needed anything, seeing as they were all intensely burdened down now. Danny was limping along at a pace one would call human, but to him it felt like he were a snail. And Kitty had taken to supporting Johnny on his left side, taking the sling off his arm no matter how much it would hurt and placing it over her shoulder. He never thanked her but he leaned gratefully to the left, forcing Kitrina to wrap her arm around his waist to help support some of the added weight she now carried.

Up ahead Tucker had begun to nervously clutch his musket, knuckles white as the sense of something incredibly familiar but askew crashed into his being. Suddenly the sight of something utterly impossible made his heart flip and then stop, freezing him in place. He was there for what felt like an eternity before Danny and the others finally managed to catch up, and when the ebony-haired soldier spotted the black he ran up to him quickly, catching the youth just as he started to fall backwards.

"Tuck! Tucker!" Danny almost yelled, barely able to hold up his best friend as his right leg started to buckle and give way. When the former slave finally managed to speak, it was in a weak, breathy voice.

"Danny?"

"What, Tucker? What's wrong?" Danny asked furiously, slowly placing the other boy down on the forest floor as Kitty and Johnny gazed on in shock.

"Something's wrong. We're in **Amity**." And he proceeded to promptly faint.

* * *

Author's Note 2: I just realized something... well, two things. The first is that I've none this guy named Tucker since, like, forever, but I only just connected the Tucker&Tucker thing... and they're both clowns... Man, I'm blonde... Cool!

And the second thing is, has any ever noticed that I seem to enjoy giving my all of my characters these really nasty injuries??? I mean, I don't do it on purpose, but its really freaky... I think I need a psychiatrist; oh well, I can just go see my uncle!

But anyways, if you all have actually stuck it through all this crap to read this, I SHOULD probably have another chapter posted in the next two-four weeks. It depends on how long it takes me to struggle through all the jumbled thoughts I've suddenly been bombarded with since I got over my writer's block... anyways, yeah...

Tootles then!

Angel


	4. Chapter 4

_I am sooo sorry this took so long, but Sam's part just didn't want to work and I had so many ideas for Danny's that I ended up writing four drafts before I gave up and just used this one. But its summer and so I've been on vacation at my aunt's and then camping and I didn't have a computer. That's no excuse though, because I write everything down in a notebook first and then type it, and I had the notebook with me, but I'm lazy. In truth, I finished this chapter and most of the fifth while camping because I was bored (the fifth will be up soon, I just have to finish a bit) and I'M SORRY!!!_

_**ANYWAYS**... this is specially dedicated to viciousberries, who is my fav reviewer for this story. You all should thank her because she is the one that inspired me to get back on this. I was working on a one-shot Danny Phantom like I do every summer because I was bummed about this one, but she's wonder and got me into it again. So thank you, viciousberries!!!_

_But I'm blathering again, just like I always do. Enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Love, S.M.**

"It is always a pleasure to work with you…" Sam stirred awake as she heard the approaching footsteps accompanied with the lowered voice making their way out of the now-silent clearing. She curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible to avoid detection, and held her breath as they passed some seven feet on her left without glancing around.

She had fallen asleep as that conniving little… Sam had no words to describe the filth that was Vlad… started bartering for the slaves like they were animals, throwing out ridiculously low amounts that Senióre Sanchez leapt onto like a hound after a bone, unknowing of how cheated he was rapidly becoming. She had marveled in anger and disapproval as Vlad slowly lowered his prices, until her rampaging emotions wore her down enough to send Sam into an exhausted but light slumber.

Samantha scrambled up when she realized that the men's voices were growing too faint for her to hear, tripping and stumbling on her multiple skirts until she caught back up to them, silent. In the very back of the group, chained together as they limped along slowly, were two slaves one carefully supporting the other. All of the other slaves had been sent on ahead with three of the hulking lugheads Senióre Sanchez brought with him, but Vlad had subtly insisted that these two stay with him, much to the bewilderment of the Spaniard.

The first, a petite young woman some two years younger than Sam herself, was horribly bruised and bloodied, her face pale under her dark skin. Her torn bodice drooped low over one shoulder, and her skirts were dirtied with dry mud and other unknown elements, but the way her eyes twinkled dangerously couldn't hide her courageous spirit.

Sam feared for the girl when she had first noticed the gleam in the girl's brown-black eyes, an immediate feeling of dread washing over her as she realized what the slave's duty was to be. Senióre Sanchez had mentioned that she had worked as a maid in her previous mistress' household, until she had tried to flee when it was discovered she had been secretly listening to the private tutor lecture instead of doing her cleaning. Vlad had glanced once at the girl, pausing slightly at her glinting eyes, before grinning wickedly and stating she would be a wonderful maid to the Lady Masters. Of course, Senióre Sanchez didn't know there **was** no Lady, but Sam, Walker, and the armed giant knew the girl would still have a place in the master bedroom: Vlad's bed.

Samantha couldn't figure out why Masters was keeping her companion, however. True, he was of the largest men she had ever seen (he had to have been a bricklayer in a previous enslavement) but other than that she could see no reason to keep him. When he glanced briefly in her direction, (she quickly ducked beneath a bush) however, she clearly saw why. Although his skin was as dark as any black's, his eyes were upturned and almond-shaped, distinctly labeling him as one of the illegal Asian, banned from entering America for their safety.

Both Spanish and Asian bloods were tolerated in the country, (although illegal) yet any chance to capture one of the hard-working foreigners was quickly taken. And by this young man's eyes (he couldn't have been younger than Dash, even slightly older) there had been little fight in his enslavement. They were kind and honest, belying a trust one wouldn't think to find in his situation. He was carefully holding his fellow slave, and when her knees gave out completely he wordlessly swung her into his arms with ease.

Ahead of the two slaves (who were being closely watched over by one of Vlad's own brainless logs of muscle) Senióre Sanchez was taking his leave, stumblingly offering farewells to Vlad and Walker, bows thrown in where he couldn't seem to find the correct English words. Then he departed, hesitantly glancing around at the unfamiliar surrounding trees before striking off boldly into a cluster of trees before stumbling over the first root that came in his path, barely saving face when one of the bumbling bozos with him caught him under the arms.

Sam stuffed her good fist against her mouth to hurriedly hide her laughter, watching carefully to see if anyone had heard the one giggle escape, but the only movement she saw was the Asian turning his own head to keep his own laughter subdued. Senióre Sanchez yanked out of his helper's hands, face red as he hurried away quickly without looking back.

There was silence for a minute as the group paused, listening for the return of the Spanish slave catcher's footsteps, before the party moved on, headed in the complete opposite direction. Sam carefully noted, however, that the metal man that had stood next to the Spaniard had failed to leave him. Instead, he stood next to the conniving Vlad, an impressive sight next to the much smaller man. It was the smaller man that made the view astounding, however.

Vlad was a powerful image to see, pouring dignity out of his very being. His gleaming black hair was starting to gray at the sides of his head, belying his advancing forty-two years of age, and was tied with a red ribbon at the base of his nape, not a single strand falling into his piercing gray eyes. A long, triangular nose was constantly raised in the air royally as if something smelled putrid all around him, and his clothes (a crisp black suit with a red undershirt that was completely inappropriate for wandering in a forest) added to his high-and-mighty attitude.

No one knew where the 'Lord Masters' had come from before he mysteriously appeared in Amity Town twenty years ago, but idle rumors had fabricated a wild story about Vlad, one he oh-so conveniently failed to proclaim as a falsehood. Something about the King of England impregnating his daughter with an illegitimate son (Vlad) and having him sent away as a child with one of his old mistresses, but not before the boy developed his own stately air. Sam couldn't know for certain all the whims her town had about him; she had stopped listening after someone claimed it wasn't the King's daughter the ruler had made with child, but his own **mother**.

No, something told her that Vlad was just as common blooded as the rest of them, whatever the plantation owners thought of themselves. Maybe it was the way he started at the sight of any red-haired woman, or flew into a violent rage at any man wider than a doorway (the metal brute and his henchman the only exception), but something was off about Masters.

Sam tried to push her thoughts aside as she continued to follow them, but it only brought her attention back onto her throbbing left hand. She cast her eyes around for anything that would distract her, focusing quickly on an angrily chattering squirrel about to throw a rotten acorn at the brute guarding he two slaves for shaking on of the lower branches of its tree. She giggled internally as the missile was thrown and hit its target (who looked around blankly for his attacker without seeing anything), before realizing that the metal-man was talking quietly to Vlad as Walker stood looking on in annoyance.

Obviously there was no love between traitors and conspirators Sam observed idly, watching the mountain of muscle clearly snub the overseer, blocking the thin man from view as she crept closer, trying to hear.

"…haven't seen his trail for three months, milord. Do you really think we can still find him?" 'Bang!' Sam hurried to cover her gasp as she heard the gunshot, horrified. Vlad had reacted immediately to the question, slamming his hand down on one of the multiple triggers that lay ready on the rifleman, firing a shot. The bullet shot straight downward, headed for him embowels, but bounced off of another gun at the last second. Walker winced as he stared at his rival in something close to sympathy, but the man remained emotionless and uncaring of the danger that had almost befallen him.

"Are you **questioning** me? Don't underestimate me, Skulker. You may be the best tracker in the Confederacy, but even **you** aren't invincible. And I could make **certain** that you never went on another hunt again." Vlad's voice was like acid, his tone more foreboding then his threat.

The now identified Skulker gave such a small flinch that only Sam and Vlad seemed to see it, but he gave no other sign of his fear. "No, sir." Vlad nodded firmly and started to walk again, but paused at the sound of the hunter's voice ringing in between the trees surrounding them. "But why do we go after **him**? What is so special about this boy that we continue to hunt him even after he has disappeared completely? Even the fool," Skulker glanced at Walker as he said the insult. "knows nothing of its importance in your plan. So, why? Why do we go to these lengths?"

"Because, you dunderheaded imbecile, without 'it', that twit Samantha will eventually find a way out of the engagement and ruin **everything**. If, **once**, we have the animal Tucker in our grasps, Samantha will **beg** to marry my charge to keep the vile boy safe. He maid, her best **friend**" Vlad spat the word out like it was poison, disgusted. "is practically betrothed to the thing. And I doubt even **he** could survive Walker's wipe forever. Eventually, either the twit or the animal will break, and I can go on with my plans. **But**" Masters said harshly as he saw Walker and Skulker's bravado return, "we need the little escapee first."

"And if he's dead?" Walker spoke for the first time, bluntly charging ahead with the question as he saw Skulker open his mouth to speak. When he was Vlad go still he shrunk back cowardly, (something that looked extremely strange on such a tall man) but the plantation owner only chuckled, amused. Sam couldn't see Vlad's expression since his back was turned towards her, but she could imagine his sickening smirk clearly.

"I must admit, there's a **much** greater chance that he is dead, but if so… we kill the twit and her family and take the land!" The men started to laugh uncontrollably and started to walk away, but Sam didn't follow this time. She was frozen where she stood, mind chaotically trying to reason out what Vlad had said. 'Tucker… chance… dead. Kill… land… her family!'

"No!" She gasped as she heard her own voice yell out, covering her mouth in shock as she tried to scramble to her feet without using her injured hand. Vlad and Walker didn't seem to hear her scream through their laughter, but the slave girl glanced sharply at her before pretending to thrash around and yell in her sleep as Skulker gazed suspiciously between the trees.

"Shut up you stupid girl! I know that wasn't you!" The hunter snarled at her as his eyes edged closer to where Sam crouched, petrified. "Where are you!? Who is she protecting?!" Sam whimpered silently as he prowled closer to her hiding spot, shrinking back. The injured slave girl glanced helplessly at her companion, whispering softly to him in a language Sam couldn't translate.

The Asian stared worriedly down at his friend, but she jabbed him weakly in the stomach with her elbow and he seemed to consent. He took a great breath, and started to sing, brawlish nonsense sounds coming out of his mouth.

The gibberish sounds seemed to wake Sam from her stone-still fear and she scrambled up, shaking. The captive girl gave her one last commanding glance and Samantha turned quickly and started to run. "No! They're getting away!" Sam heard Skulker's shout and put on another burst of speed, weaving through the trees precautiously.

She didn't know how long she had been running when her adrenaline finally failed, but the cursing and stomping feet that had been her pursuers had been long gone. Somewhere along the way she had abandoned her many petticoats, but she only remembered them catching harshly on a thorny bush and the fleeting panic of getting them off in her jumbled memories.

Samantha was still gasping for breath when she seemed to realize that she had little idea was she actually **was** and she gazed around, anxious. A little brook, bubbling softly, was to her left, and a wild selection of forest vegetation was to her right in strangely neat rows. And ahead of her, sprinkled in splotches of sunlight through the overhanging trees, was a simple wood cottage complete with a smoking chimney and sagging clothesline.

Odd, however, was the hundreds of ticking clocks that hung from the thatched roof, all telling a different time. Their off-rhythm ticking seemed to make the surrounding trees echo with off-pitch noises, and Sam dimly registered the fact that there wasn't a single bird chirping nearby as she basked in the feeling of peace she hadn't felt in over a year coming off of the haven.

"Clockwork…"

* * *

**Forever, D.F.**

"Come, sir, surely you must need new boots. Come in, come in…"

"A flower for that special lady, half-price for you, my lord."

"A discount shoeing for a fine steed, only for you, young man."

"No, no thank you. I only need a few things…No, its fine, my horse is fine, thank you…" Danny was becoming slightly irritated at all the badgering shopkeepers around him, pushing their way onto the new stranger. He lipped his mount into motion and gave up on being polite, curtly dismissing the annoying old men and their twittering daughters. His horse, a tall black creature with silver hooves and mane, tossed its head in relief as he moved faster, as glad as his rider to be out of the main hubbub.

Danny had purchased the steed on his first appearance into town, stunning everyone with the sizable sum of money he paid for the animal even while dressed in poverty-stricken and dirt-stained travel clothes. Now he wore a pair of crisp black pants and a shockingly white shirt that he wore untucked and loose, though it did little to hide his corded muscles.

He made his way back to a more solemn corner of the town, twisting and turning through narrow streets as the buildings because more and more ill-kept or small. Danny let his mind wander as he traveled the now-familiar route, body still tense for any sudden movement. They had been in town for little over two weeks, slowly slipping into Amity Town's life, to hopefully blend in. Lancer had provided him with enough money to cloth their small party, even the traitor, and to purchase a small cottage in a quiet yet respectable part of town that was close enough in Amity to keep from raising suspicions but far enough away that Danny could slip quietly away without anyone noticing.

Tucker still refused to leave the house, and Kitrina was so overwhelmed with taking care of the still-wounded Johnny that she hardly ever left his side, forcing Danny to be the reluctant face of their 'family'. Kitty insisted on keeping Johnny out of town until he was well, however, so Tuck gave them directions to a mysterious hermit called Clockwork to house the traitor. He never told them who the old man really was (Danny wasn't entirely sure Tucker knew who he was either) but said he could be trusted and was educated in herbal medicine. Kitty and Clockwork were working together to heal the wounded man, but sent Danny on a mission for a healing solvent Clockwork couldn't make at his forest home daily.

Danny had fallen so far into his thoughts that he almost passed by the house he meant to stop at, but his animal companion had become so used to the path his owner now followed that he instinctively stopped, jerking his rider back to the present.

"Good job, Phantom. Stay here." Daniel climbed down from the horse and strode between the bush fences, his steady steps marred only by the slight limp he had on his left leg. Kitrina was unsure if he would ever fully heal from the wound, but Danny was determined to do just that. Every morning he got up before dawn and would work out, sometimes riding Phantom so his body could get used to the pain and sometimes doing exercises General Lancer had drilled them on when everyone first joined the regiment. Danny rather enjoyed the morning routine, pleased at the warm stretch his muscles achieved as he pushed himself just a little past his limit. The only truly annoying part to the morning was the group of giggling girls that gathered to gaze on him shirtless.

Danny was dimly aware of finally reaching the door, which remained shut for hardly a second before it was yanked open by a plump teenage girl who sighed besottedly at the sight of him. "Hello, Boslinda. Are your parents home?" He felt like sighing himself as she started to chatter instantly upon his question.

Boslinda was a decent girl herself when her mouth wasn't open, cheerful and pretty in a child-plump way. She was even engaged to a young man named Tomas who dreamed of going to sea, through how he managed to ask her acceptance between her constant talk was a mystery to Danny. Her parents, a broad cabinetmaker named Robert and an equally stout woman named Poppy that worked with herbs, were kind and easy going, though they both babbled on like Boslinda.

Danny followed the talkative girl as she moved down the narrow hallway and through a series of rooms till she reached the back of the house, where another door was open wide enough to show an expansive garden of green.

Poppy was kneeling in one of the middle rows in front of Danny, her sporadic red hair flecked with gray escaping from underneath her bonnet. "Mama! Nathaniel is 'ere again!" Boslinda gushed as she hurried to where her mother was buried up to her elbows in soil, missing Danny's flinch.

Lancer had warned their group heatedly never to use their real names in Amity, including Johnny. Instead, they used their middle names, and a new one in Tucker's case. Two-Sides had pestered them insistently when he first heard about the identity change; for all the traitor knew, he was the only one who would need to protect himself, and repeatedly told the others so. Kitrina had quickly silenced him, however, with a sharp jab to his injured arm and an accidental 'slip' of her knife that nearly severed him from his genitals. The poor man was silent for the rest of the day and partially into the next, losing count of all the pitying glances Danny and Tucker threw his way.

And so they had an identity switch, with Danny as Nathan (he hated it when girls similar to Boslinda used the full name, Nathaniel, but it was only proper) and Kitrina as Anne. She was also masquerading, much to her horror, as Johnny, or Matthew's, wife. Clockwork wouldn't have allowed her to nurse him if he knew otherwise. Tucker had chosen the name Shawn for his playacting, though he had yet to use it.

"Ah, Nathan dear. Are ya 'ere fer more medicine?" Danny was shaken out of his thoughts as he heard the kind voice below him, and looked down to see petite Poppy's face watching him as she wiped her hands on her apron. He had a hard time imagining such a face twisted into anger, but from what Boslinda had told him upon his first visit, before he learned not to listen, she could burst into a rage in a millisecond and then be gentle and sweet after another.

"Of course, Mrs. Baker; is it ready, or should I come back later?" The young man answered as he bowed sheepishly, causing Boslinda to go into a round of titters at the gesture before she flew into another part of the house, supposedly her room.

"No, no. It's ready. Come inta da kitchen; I'll git it for ya." Danny followed her, nodding once at a breathless Robert, who was working on holding a giant shelf in one hand and reaching for a hammer with the other. When he entered the room Poppy led him through he glanced around, seeing the same scene that had greeted him every other time he had come. A single pot, covered crookedly with a too-large lid, sat on the griddle above the fire, burbling quietly. Sacks of grain and sugar lay to his right, and a large handmade bookshelf overflowing with jars of multi-colored fluids was to his left. Poppy hurried over to the shelf and grabbed a leather bag sealed tight with wax, chattering constantly. Danny tuned back in as she walked over to the simmering concoction in the pot, sighing as he heard the nonsense.

"Yes, so many peoples be aneedin' this pain barrier soup. Why, Lisa down the way is 'avin' a baby and comes to me every 'our to fight of da backpain! And I'll be a makin' a bet that Lady Manson will be sendin' someun down 'ere soon; 'er daughter will be aweddin' Lord Masters' charge. Ah, poor dear, I wouldn't want to marry that youn' man… But that ain't none o' my business…

"Now I hope ya don't mind, youn' man, but this is an old batch I'm 'eatin' up. That servant Valerie ordered it some year 'go when she was about to be 'gaged to 'er man Tucker, but when 'e all up and ran she said she didn't be needin' it. And me already 'avin' fixed it too! Poor girl…"

Danny stopped listening as the shock overtook him, frozen. Tucker had almost been engaged?! Valerie… that was the name he was always muttering in his sleep… Danny knew about Lady Manson's arranged marriage to the town womanbedder, Dashar, but he didn't care about that…

" 'Er ya go, youn' man. You be gettin' away before my dau'er gets 'er paws on ya and decides she don't want 'er Tomas now, ya 'ear? And I'll see ya tomorrow…" Danny turned, dazed, as Poppy handed him the now-scorching leather bag. She started to push him out the door and he let her, afraid the only thing holding him up was her aging tanned hands. "Oh, Valerie! Wha chu' doin' 'ere, girl?" Poppy's voice was cheerfully delighted as she saw a plump black standing in the doorway, her maid's cap on crooked. Danny looked on her wondering if this could be the mysterious Valerie, when he noticed two ribbons, a yellow and an orange, tied to her hair that were identical to Tucker's.

"Oh, Poppy, hurry! Sam has been hurt and Lady Manson is about to go into hysterics!" She was gasping for breath, and Danny figured she had run all the way from the Manson Mansion across town.

"Alright, dearie. Tell me wha's inju'ed." Poppy began running around the room, grabbing jars and concoctions quickly.

"Her hand! It's big and puffy, and I think it's broken! The doctor can't come, either. He's been in Jackson Town for days, trying to help clean up soldiers after a battle with the Union Army! Oh, Poppy!" Valerie sounded on the edge of tears, and Danny felt sorrow enter his bosom. Poor girl, indeed…

Suddenly Poppy paused as she saw him still there, and Danny recognized the scary anger on her face. Boslinda certainly was right… "Shoo! Shoo, boy, ya be in me way! Take 'at to ya sista now, ya 'ear?" Danny nodded and backed out the door, shooting one last look at the distressed Valerie.

Phantom stood exactly where Danny had left him, and the boy vaulted on his back. A brisk pace set towards 'home' left Danny time to think, and his mind was solely on Tucker and his engagement. He knew his friend had some reason or other to stay hidden in their little cottage, but Danny had never thought it would be **this**. His friend obviously still loved the girl, he wouldn't carry her ribbons otherwise, but Danny also knew that Tucker didn't want to see her, whether out of fear she had moved on or that he would never leave if he did. Poor Tuck…

Phantom's second halt made Danny realized that they were back to the cottage, and he jumped off. Rose bushes formed a little path to the door, the reds and pinks and whites almost in bloom. Uneven cobblestones followed the walkway, leading to the cedar wood door. Inside were two stories, the first containing a small kitchen, sitting room, and Tucker's bedroom. Up above were two more bedrooms, one for Danny and Johnny, who had yet to use it, and another for Kitty.

Tucker was in his room, sharpening one of his multiple knives. He had asked Danny to get the set along with his clothes, and he sat rhythmatically running the stone down one of the blades with a gloomy expression on his face.

"Get up." Tucker looked up at Danny's voice, confused. Danny knew he didn't want to leave; why should he move? "We need to talk, so you're going with me to Clockwork's."

"And if someone recognizes me?" A valid question, but Danny had a ready answer.

"We'll pretend you're sick, and cover up your face. No one will see enough to have proof it's you. Now get up, you need to get up." Tucker sighed but stood up, resigned. Danny was till the mission leader, after all. As Daniel went to get the wrappings for Ticker's disguise, the black loaded up his weapons, shoving the six knives in various, inconspicuous places on his person as well as two pistols and strapping his rifle to his back.

"Alright, let me put these on you." Danny wrapped the cloth around him, covering everything but Tucker's eyes. The former slave shoved his hands in his pockets and they went out to Phantom, who shuffled awkwardly with Tuck's extra weight before settling down.

They rode to the edge of the forest and then into it, following some unseen path. They were both silent as Phantom moved between the trees, watching for unknown figures. Once they almost came across a Spaniard and his lackey's, but they passed by unnoticed in the end.

Soon they came to a section of the forest where there weren't any other living things around them, scared off by the deafening ticks of hundreds of clocks. Tucker sighed at the familiar setting, mind awash with memories, and Danny glanced at his solemn friend. Would he ever return to his fun loving, joke making best friend? He hoped so, for both of their sakes. He was going insane without a friend to talk to.

Tucker silent slid off the horse and started to undo his wrappings, tense. Danny moved Phantom over to one of the trees and got off himself, reaching for the reins to tie the jittery creature up. He didn't want the animal to run off. Not only would they have to walk back to the cottage, but the poor beast was so spooked he probably couldn't find his way out of the forest, and would wander in it for days.

"Go on in. I need to get Phantom calmed down and find Johnny's good." Tucker nodded and walked to the wood cottage, dreading the reunion, Danny watching him silently.

And neither of them noticed the small, indistinct, foreign footsteps leading towards the clock cottage.

* * *

_Note to viciousberries: As you can see, that sneak peek that I gave you didn't happen in this chapter. But I promise it will in the fifth, because I've already written it and I'm not throwing it away because I absolutely love it, so you WILL see it. Just not in this one, in the fifth... yeah. Thank you again!_

_And to the rest of you wonderful readers! Thank you for sticking with boring old me and my problem with updating, I know its frustrating because I hate when the stories I want updated aren't. But please, stick with me, I promise the fifth chapter will be up, because I start school on August 7th. Stupid school, trying to force us to go year round... Anyways, Love Ya!_

_Angel_

_P.S. The first person to review and correctly tell me who Robert, Poppy, Boslinda, and Tomas are in the real series get a cookie and I will take any suggestion they give me and put it in a special chapter, just for them. You only need three out of four though, because one or two of them MAY be hard, it depends on how much of the series you have seen. NOW, Love Ya_

_Angel again._


	5. Chapter 5

_HaHa! I did it! I updated within three (and a half) weeks. And it has ABSOLUTELY nothing to do with the fact that I start school tomorrow!... Can anyone else tell I'm a horrible liar? Yes, I know... I have one dirty little secret to tell, however. I had this chapter all written out on notebook paper the night I posted the fourth chapter... DON'T KILL ME! I know, its bad, but I want to keep ahead by at least half a chapter from now on, and Chapter Seven was being a MAJOR butthead. I will tell you though, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this chapter. So... enjoy!_

_**Dedication: **This is for Kanashii.Umi, because I loved her review. She said I did a good Vlad! And I love staying in character, so she really made me happy to post this. But really, I love all of your reviews!_

_**Special News**: viciousberries has agreed to be my beta starting chapter ten! That means from then on, no more typos from me! Everybody cheer and grovel for her! Yeah viciousberries! Now everybody stop reading my stupid ramblings and go read the best chapter ever!_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Love, S.M.**

"Clockwork?" Sam stuck her head through the back door, looking for her old, elderly friend. "Clockwork? It's Sam." She looked around the cottage, puzzled. He didn't seem to be in any of the two rooms she could see (a kitchen, bedchamber, and sitting room were everything it sported), noticing the tea cups sitting on the end table in his main room and the boiling pot on the little stove.

"Ah, Samantha. Come in, come in. I will be right there." The wizened old voice came through the closed doorway to his bedchamber, and Sam relaxed. He wasn't hurt, then…

She walked into the kitchen and gazed at the familiar surroundings, noticing the jars of ground herbs that littered everything and the one dead clock hanging on the wall, its hands pointing toward the thirteen. Sam never understood the meaning of such a useless possession, but her old hermit friend treasured it out of all of his earthly things.

"Samantha, I hate to bother you, but could you bring me the pot on the stove and the green jar labeled 'jasmine', please?" Sam complied with his request, grabbing the pot before turning to look for such a jar, which sat on an open book that she frequently saw Clockwork writing in. She picked it up and faced the door, puzzled as how to open it with her hands occupied. Finally, she placed the jar in the pot, hoping she wasn't ruining either one, and opened the door.

"Ah, thank you. Samantha, this is Mary and her husband, Matthew." Clockwork noticed her inquiring look, her eyes lingering on the pale man's many bandages. "They came to me for some intensive healing; he was accidentally shot on their journey here. My dear Mary, this is Samantha Manson, our local heiress."

"Now old man…" Sam chided him, looking at the young couple. He had long blonde hair and gray eyes, which seemed to match his equally gray face. A look of pain was currently overcoming his features as Clockwork jabbed at his hip, which was covered in a bloodstained pair of pants and, underneath, the bandages. She also had fair hair, pulled back in a simple bun at the nape of her neck, and ordinary, large blue eyes that were trained on her husband. Her hand was currently wiping a cloth across his sweaty brow, gentle and loving as she sat perched beside him in surprisingly elegant clothes. "You told me it didn't matter whether a person was poor or rich, as long as they were rich in heart!" She smiled at him, and he gave a wispy laugh in return.

"Yes, my young girl, so I did. But if I could have…?" Sam handed him the slowly cooling pot, careful not to tip the herbal jar inside. "Thank you. And you did exactly what I needed; wonderful." He took the worn jar out of the pan and released the cork, unleashing a pleasant smell of liquid jasmine through the room.

The other three watched silently, Matthew looking on with pain-glazed eyes. The elderly man poured part of the contents onto the hurt man's hip, making the blond male hiss. "Watch it, old―" Mary slapped him in the shoulder, exactly where Sam could see another bloodspot on more white bandages, and he howled in pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry, **dear**." Mary said, making Sam raise her eyebrows. That sounded both bitter and sarcastic.

"Don't worry about it, darling. Soon you'll have to repay me." His meaning was hardly veiled, and both Mary and Sam blushed. His wife looked about to do him bodily harm when the sound of an opening door drew everyone's attention to the kitchen, expectant.

"Clockwork? K― Mary? Matthew?" The voice was unbelievably familiar to Sam, and her heart clenched. Tucker…

"In here, Shawn!" Mary called, absent-mindedly slapping Matthew's hand away from her rear. The sound of footsteps outside of the door fell upon her ears, and at the person's appearance Sam gasped.

"Tucker!" He jerked his head in her direction and froze, eyes wide. Behind her back Mary and Matthew exchanged looks, worried. "Who's Tucker? This is Shawn…" Mary said hesitantly, unsure of how to remedy the out of control situation.

"No it's not! I've known Tucker my whole life, he's my best friend. I would recognize him and his annoying habit of wearing hats backwards **anywhere**!" The others looked at the cap on the black's head, noticing for the first time that it was backwards.

"Sam…? Sammy?" He looked lost for words, and Sam felt happiness well up inside her entire body. It was Tucker, he was back! Valerie could finally stop sulking!

"It **is** you! Oh, I knew it, how **are** you?! Did you make it North? What about Valerie, have you seen her yet? She's been **so** sad since you left. She can't stand to talk to **any** man except me father. Are you here to stay―?" He cut her off, a sad look replacing his happy expression.

"I can't see Val, Sam. I'm really not even supposed to see **you**." His grim countenance made Sam pause, bewildered. What was he **talking **about; of **course** he could see her!

"Why ever not?" Something seemed to dawn on her, and a worried visage overcame her face. "You weren't **captured**, were you? Because I **know** Papa would―"

"No, Sam, it's not that." Relief flooded her, and Tucker couldn't help but smile slightly before his stony expression returned. "It's just… if anyone was to see me, they could try to sell me again. And I **won't **let that happen; I **won't** go back to that." Sam almost cheered at his declaration, but faltered. If he could still be sold…

"You didn't get your free papers, then?" Tucker looked on her, noticed her innocent air. He had changed so much since he had last seen her…

"I did, Sam. But people here… they wouldn't care whether I have them or not. As long as they make money, slavers don't care **where** a black comes from." She still looked puzzled, and he tried to explain. "I've seen a black man who had lived free his entire life be snatched in the dead of night by slavers." She looked angry for the man, but still confused. What did that have to do with Tucker? "Sam, it was in the **North**. He had come from **Canada** to where I had gotten my papers, and they just **kidnapped** him, from out of his **house**. I wasn't safe in the North, but I'm **definitely** not safe down here. I can't be seen."

Sam's astonished face almost made him wish he hadn't said anything, but it was too late to take it back now. "It's okay, though, Sammy. I've been happy." He smiled softly, and Sam sank into a chair near Clockwork gratefully.

"Oh, Tucker, you **must** tell me all about it. What is the North like? Is it **anything** like we dreamed?" Her choice of words made him remember that even though Sam was all for freedom, she was still the rich plantation owner's daughter. But he couldn't help loving her for it.

"It's better, Sammy. A million times better. Getting there was hard, but it was **so** worth it. I found a wonderful family that took me in immediately, and they began to teach me how to **really** live free. Mr. Fenton and his son Danny taught me how to ride a horse and run a business (even though it was only farming), and his wife and their daughter, Jasmine, have been struggling through teaching me to read and write and do mathematics. When I can finally bring Valerie there, she's going to love it."

Sam blinked away tears at the thought of both of her best friends leaving her forever, but pushed it aside; they deserved to be happy, whether it included her or not. She walked over and grabbed Tucker's hands in hers, smiling. "Oh, Tucker, I'm so happy for you."

"But what about **you**? How have **you** been?" It was Tucker's turn to be worried, and he fulfilled the part wonderfully as her face fell.

"Papa is making me marry **Dash**." Her scorn was obvious; from Mary and Matthew's point of view, the man seemed to be the devil.

"But I thought the master would never force you into a marriage…" Tucker's question was filled with the beginnings of anger, but Sam just shrugged her shoulders.

"He doesn't have a choice; Vlad is the one that 'suggested' the engagement. And what Vlad wants…"

"Vlad gets. I know. I'm sorry." Tucker squeezed her pale hands in his dark, callused ones, causing her to wince. "What's wrong?" He held her hands up to his eyes, inspecting her darkly bruised hand where the bone was misaligned. "Sam!"

"It's nothing; I just―" She stopped as she saw something glinting up his white shirtsleeve, and then gently pulled whatever it was out. She froze as she saw the nasty seven-inch sharpened knife, shocked. She had never known Tucker to even **think** about **using** a weapon, much less actually carry one.

"Where did you get this? Why do you **have** this?" Questions began to roll through Sam's mind, and she became so anxious that she couldn't stop herself from voicing them aloud. "What are you doing back here if you're in danger? Who are these people? How long have you been here? Are you here with the Union Army? Did you join? Did they **allow** you to join?"

"Sam." Her tongue couldn't pause in its triad even as she heard Tucker trying to get her attention. "**Sam**." She was vaguely aware that she had yet to breathe, but she continued on. "**SAM**!" His shout finally made her pause, and she inhaled sharply. "I can't tell you."

Her head jerked back in amazement; since the very beginning, when Sam and Tucker and Valerie had met, they had promised never to keep secrets from one another. The stony expression on Tucker's face, however, told her not to push the issue.

"They called you Shawn; why? Do they have different names as well, or is it just for your protection?"

"Sam." His tone said it was final. She sighed, exasperated, but dropped the issue. "Now let me look at your hand." He grabbed the bruised hand again and she hissed, tears coming to her eyes. She looked down at the wood floor in hopes of hiding the water shining in her eyes, and noticed a suspicious bulge in his pant leg. She bent down and removed another knife, identical to the first, and Matthew and Mary exchanged glances at her outraged look.

"Tucker!" He flinched, but stole both of the weapons from her hands before she could think of using them. Sam wasn't partial to violence, but Tuck didn't want to risk her suddenly changing her mind. He shifted on his feet and tried to hide his other leg, where another knife was hidden, but Sam noticed the slight movement. "Don't tell me you have **more**!"

"Alright, I won't." She growled at his poor excuse of a humorous attempt, and he moved away at her murderous expression. Obviously now was not the time for laughter.

"Take them out; **all** of them." Her threatening look made him gulp, but he didn't back down.

"No!" He glanced at Mary and Matthew, embarrassed. He was getting ordered around by a five-foot nothing tall of a girl that couldn't fight to save her life. His reputation was ruined forever…

"Tucker…" Her face turned story, and Tucker contemplated running away. Before he could, however, they all heard a deep, husky voice from the doorway of Clockwork's bedchamber.

"You hear the Lady, Tuck. Strip." Sam spun around, stunned; she hadn't heard any doors open or close. Leaning with his back against the door casually before her was a tall young man with strikingly black hair, his pleasant mouth pulled into an amused smirk.

And his gorgeous blue eyes were twinkling back at her.

* * *

**Forever, D.F.**

After Tucker had gone into Clockwork's cottage, Danny went to work at tying Phantom to his makeshift keep post. Most of the time his domestic friend could remain in a chosen place without being reined in, but, like all the animals in the forest, he couldn't stand the disturbing 'ticks' from the hundreds of clocks around him. As it was, Danny only tied the majestic beast with a slipknot, as even the thought that he was being restrained was enough to keep Phantom in line.

A quick rummage through his single saddlebag produced the sealed leather bag of medicine, which his juggled between his hands lazily, staring back at the path he and Tucker had just traveled. In the beginning, he had gone over the hoof prints with a dead branch, but once it became apparent that no others ever came to the hermit's forest home he had stopped. As it was, everyone was still wary of the would-be intruders.

Phantom's soft whinny brought him out of his thoughts and he set down his 'toy' gently; just because it had a seal on it didn't mean it couldn't leak, and Danny didn't think his ears could stand two visits to the Bakers' in a single day. Another search through his travel bag revealed a coarse brush that he took over and began to run through Phantom's mane. The creature shifted at the firm but soothing hand combing through his long silver hair, his tense muscles relaxing a little with each stroke.

Danny stayed with his animal companion until he felt sure that Phantom wouldn't bolt, talking about random topics as the horse's ears cocked back, listening. Then he eased back slowly, still murmuring to the beast, until he was able to tuck the brush back into his bag, pick up the medicine pouch, and make his way to the cottage door. Phantom tensed at the sound of Danny opening the kitchen door, but his master paid him no mind.

His first glanced into Clockwork's cottage told Danny that Kitty and the old hermit had already begun Johnny's daily check-up. Tea cups from Clockwork and Kitty's before-breakfast teatime still sat on the table in the tiny but cozy sitting room, and the journal that Clockwork wrote in still sat on the dining table from where he had left it the night before. He never took care of it before dinner, for some reason, and that was usually right as Danny was leaving.

Everything would have been perfectly normal, had it not been for the musical voice he heard coming from Clockwork's bedchambers. It wasn't beautiful; he had heard a perfectly beautiful voice before, and it was nothing like it. But it struck him more that Candice's voice ever could. It was low and rough, almost raspy, like the lady had a cold, but it was warm and kind and sensuous, too. Danny could bet that, given a chance, it would be able to melt even the thickest better; it certainly was turning his legs into a puddle of nothing.

His Union training came to him unconsciously as he walked quickly but silently to look through the doorway of Clockwork's room, the kitchen door closing quietly behind him. He had expected to draw attention to himself right when he came in, but only Clockwork glanced his way, smiling softly. Danny returned the gesture, and turned his head to gaze on the young woman with the knee-melting voice.

Her back was turned towards him as she stood in front of Tucker, who held her hands gently. He immediately noticed that she was unbelievably petite. He didn't think she would reach his chin on her tiptoes. She was also slender; if it weren't for the corset she obviously wore, Danny thought that he could see her ribs through the material, and he could probably encircle her entire waist with his two hands. Her silk slippers were dirty and covered and caked in caked mud, and her hair, which was full of pins as if she had worn it up, was falling down the top half of her back in soft curls. But it was her clothing that really drew his eye.

From her silk slippers and straight-back posture, he could only assume that she was of some importance, most likely a plantation owner's offspring. What Danny didn't understand was why she wasn't wearing the petticoats that clearly were supposed to go under her expensive visiting dress. The skirts were definitely loose enough; she was almost stepping on the dirt-stained hem. The slit in the back of the skirt, shredded neatly by some unknown plant, was also high enough that Danny could see her under things, and he blushed as he glanced away politely. It was also the most **atrocious** color of pink, and he had to wonder if she was either insane to wear such a color or colorblind.

Suddenly Danny saw the mysterious young woman pull a knife out of Tucker's sleeve, and he gave a silent chuckle. Tuck thought he was so tricky with his hidden weapons, but the young lady obviously proved otherwise. Danny leaned back against the wooden door behind him and settled in to listen, giving Clockwork an amused smile.

"…if you're in danger? Who are these people?" Danny started to give the answers in his head, entertained. _Johnny Two-Sides and Kitrina 'Kitty' Thomas, one a long-time friend and the other a barely tolerated traitor._ "How long have you been here?" _Almost three weeks, Tuck hiding out in a cottage on the edge of town to avoid you and most likely his fiancé_. "Are you here with the Union Army?" _In a manner of speaking; it's a scout team __**for**__ the Union Army. Your friend Tucker is a slave turned weapons-master turned spy._" "Did you join? Did they **allow** you to join?" _Just barely; thank goodness Dad is good for something other than eating fudge. He joined when Kitty, my __**real**__ sister, and I did_.

Danny gave a quiet laugh as he saw Tucker trying, and failing, to stop the pint-sized young woman in her rambling. He was almost disappointed when his friend managed to stop her, and then neutral when Tuck said that he couldn't give her the answers she wanted. But then she was off with more questions, and Daniel gave more unvoiced answers.

"They called you Shawn. Why?" _Because he could be caught and reenslaved, and he's supposed to be undercover, though he's done nothing yet to be so._ "Do they have different names as well, or is it just for your protection?" _Both; he needs to be protected, certainly, but we also need to keep our true names secret, or we could be arrested if someone found out we were Union officers. Strange thing is, I feel like I want to tell you every secret I've ever had, and that's entirely too dangerous a feeling._

When Tucker stopped her again, he asked to see her hand. Danny wondered what Tucker thought he was doing, proposing to a girl that was clearly on the other side they fought for, but the brief glimpse of the mystery woman's bruised hand made his heart clench. He didn't know why, but the thought of this young lady coming to any sort of harm made him angry, and he clenched his hands before he forced himself to relax. He crossed his arms instead, and Clockwork sent him a questioning glance that he just smiled at.

Danny watched the young woman bend down abruptly, and he had to remind himself it was impolite to stare at a lady's portiere as he wrenched his eyes away from her arse. Instead he watched as she withdrew another knife off of Tucker's person and Danny glanced at Tucker sharply, who looked sheepishly away from the girl. He couldn't have packed **all** of the knives on his person, could he? When the girl asked him that herself, the look Tucker made told him enough; not only **had** the former slave brought all six knives, he was most likely stuffed to the brim with gunpowder, bullets, and pistols as well.

"Take them out; **all** of them." Danny nearly choked, whether from shock or holding back laughter he wasn't sure, and shared another significant glance with Clockwork, whose eyes were brimming with tears of laughter on his otherwise solemn face. Tucker looked about ready to bolt as far and as fast as he possibly could, but by the young woman's ready and clearly murderous stance, he wouldn't make it far. Danny would have rather stayed back and continued to watch the show, but he didn't want to have to tell General Lancer that he needed a new gunman because he was murdered by a miniature female who wanted him to simply reveal his weapons.

"You heard the Lady, Tuck. Strip." He watched Kitty and Johnny jerk their heads at the sound of his voice, and Tucker nearly had whiplash from how quickly the young lady spun around.

Danny smirked softly as he realized that he had surprised her, as well as Tucker, Johnny, and Kitrina, with his sudden comment. He walked forward lazily, never giving away the fact his legs were still jell-o, and tossed the leather medicine pouch to Kitty. She caught it easily while looking at him, stunned by his smug and cocky expression.

"Tucker. Who's your… friend?" Danny knew she noticed the slight pause in his sentence, and stepped closer, running his eyes over her body. She had curves in all the right places while still staying remarkably thin, and she held herself proudly throughout his inspection with more than a little contempt and anger. Her nose was small and round, almost button-like, and her cheekbones were prominent under her long, dark lashes. However, what made him pause in shock and almost give up his high-and-mighty attitude were her eyes. Her bright, sparkling, **lilac** eyes.

Tucker shook himself out of his shock and chuckled internally, noticing Danny's gaze soften to something more curious than flirtatious for a millisecond, the heat never fading from them. When his friend continued to stare at her, however, he knew something was bad and he frowned, looking at her. Nothing seemed different; wild hair, cute nose, lilac eyes, toothpick thin―

Oh… curd. Lilac eyes, just like Danny's dream girl. He **knew** he had seen them somewhere. He had to stop this. She was started to look at Danny with something akin to interest behind her anger.

"This is Samantha Mansion, Lord Manson's only child, my old mistress, and fiancée to Dashar, Lord Master's charge." Tucker's tone seemed to scream 'back off!". Danny glanced sharply at the black when he heard mistress, more than a little surprised. "She's my best friend." Tuck added softly, smiling at her.

"Sammy, this is Na―"

"No." Danny cut him off, glancing at Sam. "She's your friend, right? No lies." She looked confused, her anger gone immediately, and he smiled at her, making her heart flutter and her anger return. Lord, he had a handsome smile… "Samantha, I'm Daniel Fenton." Her mind flashed back to what Tucker had said. '_I found a wonderful family that took me in immediately, and they began to teach me how to __**really**__ live free. Mr. Fenton and his son Danny taught me how to ride a horse and run a business…'_

"… and this is Kitrina Goodman and Jonathon Smith."

"Wait. So they **aren't** married?" The poor girl's head was spinning, Danny could tell.

"Uh…" He glanced at Clockwork, who gazed at him in amusement. There went **that** secret. "No…?"

"Oh." Danny thought it was time to stop the truth-telling, at least for now. His emotions were playing tricks on his mind and most of the time, people giving one-word answers wasn't good.

"Well, then. I believe you had some business with our mutual friend Tucker here." He winked at her and her heart leapt again, furthering her rage. He was a complete stranger, for heaven's sake! But his comment made her remember her argument with Tucker and she turned to said black.

Tuck glared at Danny for being such a Traitor, but sighed and complied silently. A knife out his other sleeve, the one in his pant leg, one in his waistband, and another strapped to his chest. "Happy now?" He glared at them both, watching Danny smirk and Sam turn shocked eyes on him

"But what about the pistols?" Danny's innocent question made him growl, but he pulled the two guns out, one under his hat and the other in the back of his waistband. "And the gunpowder?" Tucker's teeth were bared, but he removed his left shoe and dumped it out, revealing the black powder. "Bullets?" Off came his right shoe; Tucker looked murderous. "Matches?" The former slave lifted his shirt and ripped off the tape, throwing it on the floor to reveal the sticks ready and waiting. Kitty was afraid she was going to have to perform a funeral. "Saber?"

"**Are you INSANE, man**? **Where would I shove a SABER**?" The clocks on the walls rattled and Clockwork grabbed the herb jars on the bedside table, afraid they would fall off in the mini-quake.

"I don't know. You're the weapon's man." Danny's cheeky grin was hilarious, and he watched a vein start to throb on his friend's forehead as his dark skin turned from brown to red.

"Tuck." Sam's quiet voice was sad and confused, making the black stop in his death walk towards Danny. "Why?" The tears in her eyes made Danny's heart break, and he wanted to reach out and hold her, dry her tears. But he couldn't.

"Sammy…" Tucker's voice was tired, gloomy. She wouldn't understand. "Just let me look at your hand. I think you may need a doctor."

"A doctor!" She startled everyone with a shout, and they looked at each other, confused at why she was suddenly wild with panic. "Oh, my **mother**! She'll have fainted with worry by now! I'm in **so** much trouble!" She rushed to Kitty and Johnny, hugging them both. "Oh, you are a darling couple and I know absolutely **nothing** about you. We must fix that, Kitrina. Yes… My father will be so amused! He always teased me that I was losing my mind. I think he may be right!" Sam hurried over to Clockwork, who looked bemused as she pulled his head down toward her height and kissed him on the forehead. "It's been **so** good to see you again, Clockwork. I'm sorry I didn't visit. Oh! And it's almost time for breakfast; that vile Vlad will be there. Star will find this **hilarious**." She quickly flew to Tucker, who was watching her with wide, familiar eyes. "Oh, Tucker, you are cruel and mean for not visiting Valerie, truly you are, but it is **so** good to have you back. Valerie! Oh no, she'll be so **worried**. I hope she doesn't get in trouble, I must hurry!" She kissed the black on the cheek and then practically leaped to Danny, who was more than a little afraid. Was she **nuts**?! "My, you are **delicious**. You remind me of my dream boy, except you aren't wearing a Union cap. Pity. Oh, I **must** be insane to say that aloud. I have to go, goodbye!" She kissed him square on the mouth, and then dashed out the door, leaving a dazed Danny and four slack-jawed others.

"Why did **you** get a kiss?" Johnny demanded of Danny, only to get slapped in his injured shoulder by Kitrina. "Ow!"

Danny ignored them, staring after the slip of a girl that just ran out. "Tuck, is she **always** like that?"

"No, well, yes, but… What I mean is, she **used** to be when we were kids, but I haven't seen her like that in **forever**." Tucker replied, too shocked to make much sense.

"Oh." Danny continued to stare, wide-eyed, until everything seemed to click, and then he ran out of the bedchamber and through the kitchen, chasing after Sam. She had just gotten pasted the clearing and into the forest when he came bursting through the door, calling her name. She paused, flustered, as he caught up to her, and looked up to him. Lord, he was tall!

"Samantha…" He said gently.

"What?" She had meant to sound irritated, knew she **should** be irritated, but he was **so** handsome…

He grabbed her injured hand softly in his large callused one and bowed over it, grazing her knuckles with his lips. She gasped, surprised as the shock of… something went through her, and he looked at her for a long moment, his crystal blue eyes darkening with hints of green. "I hope we see each other again."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart flutter again and the butterflies in her stomach returned, making her blush. But it hadn't been because of him, no, never. "I'm sure we'll see each other again, Daniel. Amity **is** a small town, after all." Her smile made his heart swell and he returned it, his eyes still dark.

"I look forward to it, then. Goodbye, Samantha." He watched as she turned away and hurried into the woods, his gaze longing. "Oh, how I look forward to it."

As he turned to walk back into Clockwork's, his mind was on one thing: Sam. He had found his dream girl. There were only two problems: she was betrothed to another, and she was the enemy.

* * *

_See? Isn't it BEAUTIFUL??? I LOVE this chapter. So... who thinks they can figure out which part is my favorite in this chapter? Whoever gets it first gets to give me a suggestion that I PROMISE to put in one of the later chapters. No one got who Poppy, Robert, Boslinda, and Thomas were last chapter, but I'll give it another go in another chapter. Try, people, try!_

_And now... next time's deadline is... **August 20, 2007**. If I don't update by THAT date, you can all email me and bust my butt! Love Ya All!_

_Angel_

_...review please?_


	6. Chapter 6

_AAAHHH!!! I'm sooo sorry! I seriously meant to have this up a week ago. It was all written, it just needed to be typed. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I could probably give you a million reasons as why I didn't, like the fact that I was made the Mohave Theatre Company president or that I was sick, but I shouldn't! I'm Sorry!!!_

_I will tell you now, though: THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE FILLER CHAPTER. Its practically pointless, besides reactions to the meeting. I just needed some space between chapters. Otherwise, it would be all action and no story. I'm sorry for that, too. But I promise, the next chapter is AWESOME!!!_

_Now go read, and once you see the stupidity I give you permission to throw all the tomatoes at me you want._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Six**

**Love, S.M.**

"Samantha darling." Sam stared at her plate, watching the eggs squirm out of the way of her fork. She hummed lightly under her breath, ignorant of her mother trying to get her attention. "Darling? Sweetheart?" Her eggs ran into the small bundle of grapes sitting on the china, and she wondered briefly if she could somehow sneak some to Valerie; fruit out of season was a rarity, even for someone of Sam's class, and her friend loved the little red sweets. "**Samantha**." Sam was just starting to wonder if Daniel liked the berries or if he had even had them when she heard her mother's firm calling and looked up, bewildered. She hadn't done anything wrong, had she?

"Yes mother?" Sam turned her bright lilac eyes on her mother, who exchanged slightly worried glances with her husband. Clearly their daughter hadn't heard a word said to her, and most likely nothing at all during the meal. It was so unlike her to be as quiet as she had been; usually she was **full** of opinions that she adored to share, much to her mother's chagrin and father's enjoyment.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Jeremy asked softly, studying his beloved child. Sam and her mother didn't often agree on anything and usually he was constantly busy with work, so much so he hardly ever had time for the unique girl. Yet he knew enough to notice **something** was different, no matter how Sam tried to make them think otherwise. Her eyes seemed almost too bright, sparkling like mad in the extra chandelier light, and her normally pale cheeks were flushed with color.

"I feel perfectly fine, father. Did you need something?" Her tone was almost too innocent, too polite, especially with Vlad there; something was obviously upon her mind if she wasn't feeling ill. What was it, though?

"Lord Masters asked what happened to your hand, dear. Did you not hear him?" Sam knew her parents knew perfectly well she hadn't heard the vile man. She glanced over at him, noticing how he seemed to act like he owned the place, seemed to act like **they** were the guests while managing to put on the air of concern at the same time. The conniving, evil― "Princess?"

Sam shook herself out of her thoughts, marginally annoyed at Pamela's pet names. "No, I'm sorry. My mind was… elsewhere." She smiled a thin, tight smile at Vlad; elsewhere, indeed. She wished **every** part of her was elsewhere, any place away from the oily man who was looking at her with thinly veiled eyes at that very moment. "I smacked my hand on my desk this morning. It was… an accident, but it hit rather hard, and from what Midwife Baker says, I broke two bones. It should heal well, however." There; not completely lies but not the truth; half-truths, something that has a ring of truth to it that she knew she could get away with. She hoped…

At Vlad's 'startled' glance of a midwife giving an assessment of the injury Pamela hurried to explain. "Doctor Stratt is over in Jackson Town helping to take care of the wounded soldiers that fought there recently. We had no one else to turn to."

"Ah, I understand. Doctor Stratt is a good man, fighting to aid our troops in his own way. We must keep our style of living, after all." His tone seemed to dare any of them to say that he was wrong, and Sam bit her tongue at her mother's glance, scarcely hiding her fury. Of course, her neutral father would say nothing, and Pamela supported the Confederacy; she was too used to her fancy things.

"May I be excused, Father?" Sam avoided looking at Vlad or her mother, afraid they would see how tightly clenched her teeth were; little else was keeping her temper in check. A pleading look from Star, who had little feelings or opinions on the war but hated to be in her guardian's presence longer than necessary, made her calm a little, and she added hastily: "And Starra Anne, too?"

Jeremy glanced at Vlad for permission to excuse his charge, but Sam stared only at him, praying internally for freedom. At Masters' nod her father turned back, smiling at her.

"Of course, angel. You and Starra Anne may leave." She rushed to his side and planted a kiss on his cheek before she caught herself, and she flushed, angry at herself rather than embarrassed. She turned to her mother and coldly kissed her as well to cover her mistake, then curtsied to Vlad and Dash, who was glaring at them for leaving him with the adults. Star winked at him and he scowled, only to receive a stony look from Vlad.

As the two girls headed out the dining room door to the grand staircase, Sam heard Jeremy start to speak again. "Where are your guests, Lord Masters?"

"Oh, they wished to settle in this morning. You shall most likely see them some other time, however." Yeah right. More like they'd be waiting on them or working in the fields outside of his mansion. Guests, indeed.

The short walk to her room was silent except for the sound of shuffling feet and the occasional growl of annoyance from Sam. Starra Anne was a naturally talkative person, but Sam was too involved with Vlad and his manipulative ways and thinking of how to outsmart him to participate in any conversation. Star left her to her angry thoughts after seeing the expression on her face, though she had little idea what her friend was so furious about.

Valerie was in her room trying to repair the hideous dress Sam had taken a stroll through the forest in, stitching the countless rips together again when the two girls walked in. Sam had little idea **why** her mother had demanded her friend to fix it; Pamela would never let her wear it in public again, she was sure.

When Sam had left Clockwork's home in the forest she had rushed home, certain someone would have finally noticed that she was gone. True enough, Star had brought her father and mother to see the injury, only to have found her missing. Pamela had fallen into a dead faint the second she saw the empty room, but Jeremy had ordered a search of the mansion quickly, sending Valerie to the midwife as well. Another hour was spent looking for her when Sam suddenly walked up the path to the house, clutching her hand and missing her petticoats.

Her mother, who had to be awakened with smelling salts by Poppy, took one look at her daughter's appearance and stormed outside, grabbed the girl's arm, luckily the unharmed one, and dragged her inside. Five minutes later she was shoved into a chair and servants were attacking Sam's hair and face and clothing, all while the midwife tried to care for her aching hand.

The first thing Poppy forced down her throat almost made her heave it back up; it smelled like cinnamon and Valerie said it helped with pain, but it tasted more like rotten celery and toilet water(1). After that there was a brigade of nonsense forced down her and on her, including a bandage they wrapped around her hand and drenched in gobs of white paste. By the time Vlad and his charges had arrived for the late brunch, the paste had hardened into a cast, she was clad in a new dress, a bright yellow that was almost as bad as the pink, and the vile concoction had taken affect; she felt no pain from her hand, though her tongue was a different matter.

Valerie looked up from her sewing as the two girls walked through the door, boredom written across her face. Star snatched the dress from her and sat down on the bed; although that particular work would probably earn her a lecture from her guardian, Star loved anything to do with a needle and thread. Much of her work littered the more prosperous homes in Amity Town, including the embroidered fan that sat on Sam's dresser. Samantha, on the other hand, detested the activity and made sure she never touched the tools, much to her proper little mother's horror.

Sam moved to sit on the window seat that was on her west wall, looking to the left at the forest as Starra Anne and Valerie looked at her worriedly. "Are you alright, Sam?" Valerie asked, her eyes roaming softly over her friend's preoccupied face. Wherever she had disappeared to, whatever she had seen, it certainly held her attention.

Sam sighed as she heard **that** question again. Never had she grown so tired of a simple sentence before! Did she look ill, unhealthy? "I'm fine, Val." The two girls sitting on the four-poster bed, the slave and the lady, glanced at each other in mutual worry.

"What happened while you were gone, Sam? Where did you go? What did you see that has you so… dazed?" Sam had expected the interrogation from the two other females. Unfortunately, her mind had been so… enthralled by the events she had gone through she had failed to come up with a plausible excuse.

What could she say? 'I followed Walker into the forest? I watched Vlad barter for the lives of blacks like animals? I happened to overhear a villainous plan to steal my family's lands and fortune? I saw Tucker, our old friend and Valerie's fiancé? I watched him unload more weapons from his person than a hunter? I met three mysterious people that have some connection to Tucker that I could never had? I met the most overwhelming person I ever met who also happens to be a conceited fool that was too handsome for his own good with my Union soldier's blue eyes? Of course not!

"Nothing. I just saw… nothing." Wonderful; Samantha had just revealed that there **was** something by refusing to not say anything. Valier would pick up straight away that she was hiding something, and they **never** did that. Her mind flashed to Tucker, and she remembered his stony resistance to answer her question. Everything was changing **so much**.

Sam almost growled as she saw Valerie and Star exchange **another** look, but bit back a sigh of relief when neither young woman said anything. She knew her resistance would fail with enough pressure, considering the multiple issues that currently weighed her down, which she knew wouldn't be good for anyone. She had thought repeatedly of telling her father everything, or at least Vlad's plot to secure more wealth for himself, but what could her father do? Vlad was the most powerful man in Amity. She was almost **certain** he had something to do with Dash and Star's parents' deaths, though she had little to no proof. And they had only mentioned lightly that they thought the Union had the right idea about freeing the slaves! What would happen if they even **thought** about stopping Masters' devious plot? Certainly nothing good…

She settled deeper into the cushions on the window seat as she tried to think on more pleasant thoughts, unaware that she was trying to burn a hole through the forest around the hermit Clockwork's home. Star continued to push the needle through the hideous pink fabric over and over, comforted in the relaxed actions as she tried to puzzle through her friend's strange behavior. They hadn't been friends as Valerie and Tucker had been with the girl, but thought she knew Samantha's moods enough to unravel this one. Why, then, had she never seen this particular look before?

Valerie, though concerned for her friend, knew better than to pester her. Instead she took advantage of her relieved chore, settling deeply in her friend's feather-down bed sheets. Sam glanced at her briefly as she began to play absentmindedly with the slightly worn yellow and orange ribbons in her hair, hesitant. Should she tell Valerie Tucker was back and facing danger for an unknown reason to be here? But no, he said that even **she** wasn't supposed to see him, know his, **their**, true names. And then the thought of **him** captured her mind once more and she turned back to the forest.

Sam knew he wasn't supposed to occupy her thoughts, wasn't supposed to linger over the memory of his dazzling eyes. She was, no matter how hard she fought and how much she made delays, eventually going to be married to Dashar. Eventually Vlad **was** going to grow tired of their childish antics and demand a wedding to take place. He wouldn't wait forever for his money, if he was willing to kill her and her family, after all. But something about Daniel hit a cord in her, mystified her, and her usually sensible mind sot to discover what it was.

Some while later a stray thought floated through her mind carrying the answer. She wasn't surprised, really, but she still gasped quietly, softly enough that Valerie and Starra Anne didn't hear it.

She wanted to see haughty Daniel Fenton again. She just didn't know **why**.

* * *

**Forever, D.F.**

Upon entering the cottage a second time, Danny paused to grab two chairs from the kitchen table and drag them into the bedchamber. He unsuccessfully shoved one over to Tucker when he entered the room, slumping down into the other as the first tipped precariously before the black caught it. By the way Johnny was fussing at the medicine Kitty was currently trying to drown him with, they would be there for a while longer. Danny didn't understand why the traitor fought against it, fought against **her**. For one, it smelled wonderful, like warm cinnamon and a hint of vanilla. For another, Kitrina **always** won.

"No! I don't care **what** you say, that devil juice does **not** taste like **anything** but rotten vegetables and ripe laundry! I won't take it again!" Kitty put a hand on her hip, staring at him. The man was **impossible**.

"Yes, you **are**. It helps, and you know it. Besides, it tastes perfectly fine." He started to laugh in her face and Danny leaned over to whisper at Tucker, watching Kitrina's face go a bright red at the rude gesture.

"Have you ever had the stuff before?"

"Yeah; when the overseer would… punish me, that concoction was the only thing that would hold off the pain so I could work the next day." The former slave grimaced as Kitty slapped the traitor, staring at the quickly reddening handprint. Ouch…

"Does it really taste as disgusting as he says?" Danny was curious; the only type of medicine he had ever taken were things that fought off infection. Jasmine didn't believe in painkillers, nor did his mother, and he would much rather bare the pain than swallow mysterious plants.

"Worse. No one has come up with an adequate description; that one's rather good, actually." Tucker didn't take his eyes off the fighting pair, watching Johnny's hand inch ever closer to his nurse's rear. The black had to shake his head; even arguing as he was, Two-Side couldn't help lecherous actions, the fool.

Both males turned their full attention back to the duo; Johnny seemed to have dared to prove him wrong by trying some of the vile stuff herself, and Danny knew Kitty never turned down a challenge.

"Fine, I will, you baby!" Just as he thought, she jerked the leather bag out of Clockwork's hands and before the old man could protest or the boys could warn her, she tipped it back and swallowed a decent portion.

Not a second later she started to gag, eyes wide as she coughed. Johnny handed her a roughly carved wooden cup of water immediately, spat forgotten as he looked on her with soft, concerned eyes. She accepted it from him gratefully, sitting abruptly on the quilt-covered bed. After she took multiple gulps of water she spoke again, sticking her tongue out to try and get the coated taste off of it.

"Alright, I was wrong. That goop is **nauseating**. I'm sorry." Danny and Tucker looked at each other, startled. **Never** had they known Kitty to admit she was wrong, much less apologize. They waited for Johnny to make some boastful remark about how he had been right and she wrong but he only smiled and took the pouch from her, downing the contents. Peculiarer and Peculiarer…

Danny watched as Tucker bent down and picked up one of the knives out of the pile he had made on the floor, his puzzlement growing. The former slave handled the weapon like he had been born with a knife in his hand, twirling it with no precaution against getting cut. It disappeared up his sleeve in a flash, not a sign that a blade was there.

Yet obviously he **hadn't **grown up with dangerous artillery like a knife; overseers and plantation owners were constantly worried that the slaves would revolt and thus refused to let anyone but the cooks touch anything remotely harmful, and only reluctantly then. Danny didn't understand why; few of the blacks he had seen around Amity had little enough spirit to worry about surviving life, let alone actually think of changing their poor conditions. He had no doubt it was like that everywhere in the South.

He pulled his mind back into the world as he noticed that only a pistol lay on the floor, covered in the gunpowder that had been scattered on the wood. Said gun soon went back into hiding under Tucker's hat, cushioned by the curly black hair underneath it. Tucker absentmindedly pulled two worn yellow and orange ribbons from under his shirt by his heart as he stared at Kitrina, who was helping Clockwork change Johnny's bandages while trying to keep her eyes from straying to inappropriate appendages. Danny stared at the black's coarse hands stroking the cloth, mind returning once again to the slave girl who stood, weeping, in Poppy's kitchen as she worried for her friend. His thoughts flashed to Samantha, who had to have been the injured mistress, but he jerked them back to Tucker.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tucker looked at him, confused, and the others turned their attention to them.

"Tell you what?" Tuck's voice was laced with innocence and speculation, but Danny could see suspicion lingering in his brown eyes.

"About Valerie." Kitty couldn't tell how Tucker could both pale and flush at the same time beneath his dark skin, but he managed it nicely and she focused her attention on the mysterious name instead.

"Who's Valerie?" Johnny asked, looking between Danny and Tucker and Clockwork, who was gazing at Tucker in a prodding way. The old man had to know something.

"My… she was my mother." Tucker looked away and Kitty and Johnny gave sympathetic sighs, but Danny and, surprisingly, Clockwork, got hard glints in their eyes.

"I didn't know seventeen year old girls could have an eighteen year old son." Tucker looked back sharply at him with wide, unbelieving eyes, and Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"Where did you… I mean, the name must be common; my mother wasn't the only one to have it." Tucker caught himself in the slip, but Kitrina and Jonathon started to lose their understanding looks.

"Yes, but **this** Valerie seemed to be important; she carried two old ribbons in her hair, one yellow and one orange." Everyone's eyes fell to the two strips of cloth in Tucker's hands. "In fact, they looked **exactly** like yours." Tucker sighed softly, giving up the lie.

"Why didn't you tell me you were engaged?" Kitty gasped and Johnny shook his head, growing more and more confused. What was **up** with these people? Secret names, untold fiancés, crazy mysterious hermits…

"How do you know we were engaged?" Tucker looked curiously at Clockwork, who shook his head 'no'; he hadn't said anything about the former slave's past. It wasn't his secret to divulge.

"Midwife Poppy; she mentioned Valerie's order of the concoction Johnny takes, and said you used to be engaged before you left." Tucker shook his head, obviously recognizing Mrs. Bakers' character and tried to explain.

"We weren't engaged yet. I had **planned** on asking her, but when we heard of the Underground, I had to see if I could escape and **really** get a chance of a better future for the both of us. She wanted to come, and Sam, but I left at night so that they couldn't follow me. I couldn't let them get hurt."

Danny stared at the young man that had become his best friend, realizing for the first time how little he knew of Tucker. Until recently, he had only known that Tuck had escaped a cruel life, judging by the multiple scars on his back, and that he was a hard-working, determined young man. What else was there to the black?

"Tucker… can you tell us about your past? Before you came to West Virginia, I mean?" There was silence for a moment and everyone else held bated breath as Tucker looked away, waiting to see if he would answer the question everyone wanted to ask. Kitty was just about to apologize to him when he started to talk, a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I was born eighteen years ago, sometime in the fall; plantation owners don't care about slave births, mostly, and we had no way of keeping track ourselves. I wasn't with Master Manson and Sam's family then. I wasn't sold until I was four, separated from my family.

"I was a groom for the horses before I left, but back then I was only a playmate for the younger Sam. She was a quiet thing, shy and mature for three. Valerie came a year later, and we formally became the 'Trio' the first time we pulled down Dashar's pants. We would spend hours in the forest when we weren't causing some sort of trouble, roaming free and staying out of the way of the laborers. We didn't know that Sam was different from us yet. All that mattered was that she could play 'Hide me, Find me,' better than us, being so tiny. It became a game to see how long it would take us to find her.

"I remember when we found Clockwork. We had gone farther than usual, away from the sound of the other workers. Sam was pretending to be a princess and Val and I were her peasant servants. It was the first time we acknowledged the difference between us, if only subconsciously. We were seven.

"Sammy wanted to ride a horse, so we slung her onto my back and we took off running. Suddenly I tripped over something. It was a clock…" Danny glanced around at Kitrina, who was still perched softly on the side of Johnny's bed, and he was gently running his hand up and down, up and down her arm. Neither seemed to notice, or they just didn't care.

Clockwork was smiling fondly, his scarred, bearded face pulled back into a rare smile. He was watching the distant Tucker with glazed eyes himself, remembering the timid young Tuck trying desperately to sink into the ground as his past self confronted him. Everything seemed so peaceful in this cottage, the fighting and slavery and heartache forgotten for happier memories. But he couldn't forget the Army hidden in the forest outside of the wood walls or the enemy girl that fascinated him, couldn't forget what he was fighting for. He had so much to think of; Valerie, and General Lancer, and his 'family' in Amity.

But just for a moment he pushed it to the side as Tucker talked of different days.

* * *

**(1) Toilet water, for those of you that don't know, is NOT toilet water. They didn't have toilets back then. THIS toilet water is now what we call perfume. Though I guess either would work...**

_See? Pointless, utterly pointless. I'm sorry. There WAS some Johnny/Kitty fluff... type... thing... but it wasn't all that much. I PROMISE the next chapter is sooo much better._

_I've decided on the timeline for my deadlines: every fifteen days I will update. So, since I'm updating on a Monday this time, it would be two weeks and then a Tuesday. Just to clear things up. And since I went over this deadline, I refuse to change the next update time. The next chapter will come up when it should have come out if I had updated on the 20th (partly because I love the next chapter) so..._

**Next Update Due: **_September 4th, 2007_


	7. Chapter 7

_Haha! I made the deadline! And that is fantastic for me right now, because until yesterday I was at a family reunion in Utah so I couldn't work on anything but the notebook writing; no typing for me. But I finished the chapter on Sunday and typed everything today, so my fingers ache like the Dickens. Yes, I DID just say dickens. Anywho! I love this chapter, seriously I do. I actually didn't fit everything I wanted into it, but it developed a mind of its own and flew. I hope you enjoy it!_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom. If I did, he would be the swauve and charming Danny he is in this and Sam would be more clutzy._

**_Dedication_**: _to my fantabulous cousin Chelsey, who I did math homework with that I didn't need to do and shouldn't have understood and had a ball with it. Scary for a writer, I know. I also showed her how to eat a chocolate bar correctly... maybe if you wonderful people wouldn't mind, I'll take a week or two off from this to write a one-shot about it. Seriously, it's wonderful._

_STOP READING ME BLABBER ON!!! GO READ!!!_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Love, S.M.**

Samantha was **mad**.

No, she wasn't mad, she was **furious**. What was more, she was **mad** she was furious. She had nothing to be furious about, correct?

No.

Sam was mad, furious, **outraged** against one person. And for once, it wasn't Dash and it wasn't Vlad. Valerie was still the same, moody but pretending everything was fine, so of course Sam couldn't be mad at **her**. And Starra Anne was standing on her tiptoes on broken egg shells, avoiding anything that might set Sam off. Even her **mother** hadn't made her mad; Pamela was setting up for a ball to come, months away, but she needed to plan **something** with her daughter's wedding going nowhere. So who was there to be mad at?

**Daniel Fenton**.

But why should she be angry with a perfect stranger? Aside form his arrogance and his gorgeous blue eyes that always laughed at her and his cocky 'I'm perfect' attitude, that is. He hadn't laughed at her with his eyes, or made her blush, or, heaven help her, kissed her hand! He hadn't done **anything**. And he hadn't done **anything** because he hadn't been there.

**At all.**

That's right. Daniel Fenton, Mr. 'I hope we see each other again' hadn't been to visit **once**. Mr. Cocky hadn't showed once. Mr. 'I know I'm perfect and you known you love me for it' hadn't come to see her. Mr. … well, you get the idea. So, yes, Sam was mad.

Don't get her wrong, she had been reasonable the first day after meeting him. She had simply told herself that he had to have been busy.

The fourth day, she rationalized that he was going to visit tomorrow to make sure he didn't appear too eager.

By the eighth day, she had given up on being reasonable and officially labeled him a jerk.

The tenth day, he was a rake and a womanizer and was not to be communicated with.

The thirteenth day he became the 'smile and ignore' jerk and rake, along with the old ladies that were **not** her grandmother and had a fascination with pinching cheeks until they were red and embarrassing girls that were **not** her with tales of wedding nights.

Waking up this morning, she resolved that he was to be considered 'one to avoid at **all** costs'; others were the old lecherous men who tried to pinch young ladies bottoms because their wives, the cheek pinchers, refused to touch them because of their gruesome habits. Yes, it was **that **bad.

Of course, with her resolution in mind Sam tried to focus her thoughts on **anything** but Him, which currently put her in the garden, strolling by the many flowers. They were beautiful, even in the fall weather, and their aroma kept her mind occupied as she tried to decipher which fragrance went with each flora. Unfortunately, she was also with her mother.

Pamela, who was dressed in a disgusting amount of pink and was being followed by one of her multiple personal servants with a parasol, had come barging into Sam's chambers at seven, yanking her out of bed while exclaiming that 'they just **had** to pick flower arrangements for the ball'. Samantha herself didn't understand why they were doing this **now** if the event wasn't to happen for at least a half a year; by then the plants would be dead and replaced by different flowers. Of course, this also allowed her **dear** mother the chance to hit at Sam's up and coming wedding. Pamela was not to be deterred by the fact that a date had still yet to be chosen.

"Oh, darling, just **look** at that pink flower there. Wouldn't it look just **charming** in your hair at the wedding? Oh, and that would look **beautiful **in Starra Anne's boutique!" Star was to be her maid of honor because Valerie couldn't. And Pamela didn't seem to care the slightest that she didn't know a single type of flora in her garden; she had been the one to start it, as well. Of course, as soon as she had seen how dark her hands had gotten **that **hobby had been erased from her daily schedule.

Sam ignored her mother, fussing with her dress absentmindedly. Luckily she had been able to escape without even a speck of pink, choosing for a dark green that accented her fair skin and drew attention to the freckles that dotted her button nose and shoulders from too much time in the sun from her younger years. Unfortunately, almost none of her clothing escaped her mother's attention without **some** adaptation, and this hadn't slipped by Pamela's touch. It was off-the-shoulder, something Samantha felt was unnecessary and most of the young women's mothers in the area felt was inappropriate, and had a swooping neckline that Sam continually tugged at. Her mother also seemed to be punishing her for her petticoat-less state a forenight ago, because there skirts were wider and fuller than most, calling for more of the underskirts.

"Samantha, are you listening to me?" Sam turned to her female parent, hands lowering from her bosom. She stopped the angry tirade against Him at her mother's disappointing look, gazing around casually for a distraction. The sight of a light blue flower, growing from a rather numerous weed caught her attention; it resembled His eyes exactly. Her mother would surely crush it upon suggestion. Perfect.

"What of this, mother? For the ball, I mean." She grabbed the blue flower and pulled it off roughly, handing it to her mother with a scarcely veiled vicious grin.

"Oh, Samantha, it's **perfect**! Thank you, darling." Sam's grinned faded as her mother gushed over the weed, shocked. Her parent truly knew **nothing** about plants. She sulked to herself as her mother turned in circles looking for a garden slave, her lower lip sticking out like a child's.

"William!" Their black butler was walking up the path toward them, head looking down at the ground more out of fatigue than respect for his mistresses. He had been in the family so long that he was almost kin. His graying hair was receding on the top of his head, and he moved slowly from old age.

"Madam, madam." He bowed to them both, looking at Sam quickly; she smiled. Many a time Will had covered for Tucker, Valerie, and herself when they had gone exploring without her parents permission, used to watching them climb out her window and return by way of the front door, scrapped, bruised, and happy. "You have a visitor. He is at the gate now, with a fine beast, but when told you were in the garden he asked if he could join you. What shall I tell him?" He waited, and Sam looked at him; he was acting strangely, hardly withholding his smile. What visitor did they have?

"Of course, William. Tell him to hurry." They began walking in the opposite direction of Will, but Sam paused as her mother turned around as Will was about to go through the arch of the hedge wall. "Oh William!" The butler turned, bowing again.

"Madam?"

"Who is this young man? What is his name?" Samantha turned as well, eyebrows rising at Will's unrestrained grin.

"He said his name was Nathaniel, madam. Nathaniel Fenton." Sam flushed with anger, remembering Daniel's cocky grin. Tuck had started to name him something starting with an 'n', if she remembered correctly, and there was no mistaking the 'Fenton'. The nerve of that insufferable, haughty―

"Hmmm… I don't recognize the name. Do you know a Nathaniel, Samantha dear? From one of the socials, maybe?" Sam shook her head slowly, trying in vain to once again pull the dress up onto her shoulders and make the neckline higher.

"No, mother." They walked in silence, balls and weddings forgotten.

"What a lovely sight; two beautiful women all for my enjoyment." She froze, body tingling when she heard the husky voice behind her. Sam turned reluctantly on her slippered feet, eyes on the stonework beneath her. A pair of black boots, shined till she could see her reflection came into her vision and she burned red at the improper image that shone back at her. Her eyes rose over black breeches and a stark white shirt with the top two buttons undone, to a long, strong neck and into twinkling blue eyes that were once again laughing at her. "Hullo."

It was Him.

* * *

**Forever, D.F.**

Her eyes were sparking at him angrily, and Danny fought the urge to wince. Right, then, he had made her mad. And by the stubborn set of her jaw Sam wasn't going to tell him what he had done wrong. He was going to have to figure it out on his own and apologize for whatever it was. Right.

Tearing his eyes away from Sam, Danny turned his attention to the woman beside her, who, he assumed, from the butler's comments, was her mother. The old black seemed rather catty when he mentioned Lady Manson, and Danny figured that Sam and her mother didn't get along. This was a foreign concept to Danny; his own mother and sister were the best of friends, and Kitty's mother, who was actually not her birth mother, (her real mother died giving birth to Kitrina) but her father's second wife, had been their school teacher who was loved by everyone, especially Kitty. To not have a supportive mother…

The older woman was tittering at his compliment, an annoying set of giggles coming through her too-full lips. The pink was hurting his eyes as he looked on her, and he immediately knew that this was where Samantha had gotten her sense of color. But when Danny looked back at her, Sam was blessedly free of pink. In fact, the only thing further from pink she could have worn besides that emerald green was black. And he had a feeling she would have loved to wear it.

Danny became aware that her mother was trying to speak to him, and he turned back to her, staring somewhere past her right ear in hopes of not further damaging his eyesight. "I'm sorry, my lady, but I'm afraid I didn't hear what you said. I was too overwhelmed at the beauty in front of me. Would you care to tell me again?" He saw Samantha stick her lower lip out farther, and he had to resist the shocking urge to act upon his own sudden yearning to press his lips to hers.

"I said, young man, that it is improper but flattering that you would pay us such a compliment when you are a complete stranger." Danny didn't think she cared anything about anything improper at the moment, but she restrained herself. He was extremely grateful for that, as well.

"Let me remedy that then, my lady." He walked toward her and bowed over her hand, almost chuckling as he saw Samantha gag in the corner of his eye. "Lady Manson." He flashed her a smile and she tittered again. He straightened and walked to Samantha, who stiffened as he took her hand as well. "Miss Samantha." His voice was low and husky and he kept his eyes on hers as she kissed her hand gently, smirking softly. Her eyes widened at the feel of his lips on her hand once again, and she flushed involuntarily.

"You are very forward for a stranger, sir. I would ask you not to take liberties over me." Her voice was cold as ice, and he shivered internally even as his smirk grew. She was playing, then. Alright, two could play that game.

"My apologies. My name is Nathan Fenton, Miss Samantha. Now we are no longer strangers." Her pout grew and his eyes dropped to her lips again. Sam waited for him to make another comment, but when he remained silent, still slightly bowed over with his hand in hers she tried to determine what he was looking at. His eyes certainly weren't on hers where they should have been.

She looked down, following Danny's eyes. They fell on her chest, where her outrageous dress seemed dangerously close to falling completely off. "You… you!" She jerked her hand out of his and turned her back to him, storming down the garden path. Danny stared after her, confused. What had he done?

He faced Lady Manson, or, at least, where Lady Manson was **supposed** to be, but she was gone. Danny remembered her fluttering away talking about a slave or some such thing while he was staring at Samantha and he shrugged. All the better for his sanity.

Danny contemplated leaving after Samantha's most obvious dismissal, but he had yet to discover what had her so irritated at him. And if the thought of tormenting the lilac-eyed girl further happened to cross his mind, he denied it. He would **never** be so cruel to a member of the opposite gender. No, of course not… too much.

He dashed after her in a sprint when he realized how far ahead of him she was, reaching her in a matter of moments with his long legs. Sam heard his approach and knew instantly by some sixth sense that it was him. She stuck her nose up in the air haughtily, something she never did because all the shallow, inadequate young women in Amity she was forced to associate with couldn't seem to **stop** doing it. But desperate times call for desperate measures. If he was going to try and worm his way into his good graces, let him. Samantha had absolutely no qualms about ignoring him.

When he came to the left of her and tucked her hand into the crest of his elbow she **had** to object, however. "You certainly don't seem to mind taking liberties, do you, Mr. Fenton?"

"Come now, Sam, we went on an adventure together! Surely you could call me Danny." He grinned cheekily at her and watched her flush. Good heavens, but the girl seemed to be almost **nothing** but blushes! Now if he could find out whether it meant she was mad or embarrassed…

"Daniel, or Nathaniel, ― for that is what I will call you, no less, because it is only proper and, really, I'm starting to think I don't like you the least bit― we hardly went on an **adventure**. You convinced one of my best friends to remove an insane amount of weaponry off his person before he stabbed himself to death. That is **hardly** an act of **chivalry**."

Her voice was cold, but something in the husky tone made it seem like she was almost… amused. But that was ridiculous.

Alright, then. No talks of adventures. Obviously you haven't told anyone why you disappeared into the forest fine and then came out injured." Her flush returned, and he gave himself a pat on the back mentally.

"For your information, I was **not** fine when I went in the forest. Why do you think I panicked when I realized how long I had been there?" Danny had to wonder if she remembered her rather… forward farewell, but when no reddening came upon her face he **almost** pouted. No, then.

"Understood; no mentioning of your utter klutziness." He flashed her a crooked smile, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "You never denied that you hadn't told someone, though." She ignored him and his grin grew. A secret to tease her with, wonderful!

"I am **not** clumsy. I don't know what Tucker has been telling you, but it is **all** lies." Her voice was sharp, but not harsh, with anger.

"Really? Then the story Tuck told me, about the stables and you sitting on the fence and falling in onto a pile of horse dung, that wasn't true?" Sam flushed and Danny knew he had caught her. "Or the time at your first social when you tripped over the hem of your dress and fell face first into a platter of soups Tucker was carrying because one of the servers was sick?" Her mouth began to thin into a narrow line and her cheeks didn't lose their flush. Oh, this was amusing! "What about the time when you were first learning to ride a horse and you were so little someone had to boost you over, but you fell right off the other side?"

"That one **wasn't** my fault! Steven threw me over too fast and I couldn't grab onto something quick enough. It's not **my** fault I'm so light!" Danny glanced down at her slim waist in silent agreement.

"Why **are **you so petite? Don't you ever **eat**?" She shrugged, and he realized suddenly that at some point her anger seemed to have vanished and they were now completely comfortable strolling arm in arm together.

"I do, I just don't eat **meat**." He glanced at her sharply, astounded. Whatever meat his family ate had to come from their farm, true, but they **did** eat it. Why, then, did Sam not when her family could easily afford to just buy it?

She saw his look and explained, nonchalant about the whole thing. Sam was used to people wondering why she wouldn't eat the chicken or livestock or fish. "For one, I think it's unfair that I get to eat certain things that Tucker and Valerie and the rest of the slaves can't. Not that I can say that around my mother or Vlad." Danny had heard about the legendary Vladimir Masters, though he hadn't personally **seen** the man. Half the town of Amity revered him and the other half hated him. Yet the whole of the population feared him, whichever side they took.

"No, instead I say that it is cruelty to animals to be slaughtered just for our enjoyment. And it's true; I would hate for any creature to die, though Vlad may be the exception." Danny shook his head, amazed. The girl was perfect. Except for her sudden attitudes towards people she just barely met, of course.

They fell silent as the continued through the gardens, her hand still wrapped around Danny's elbow. Suddenly they came to a large garden wherein strawberries and watermelon and a number of other fruit were planted. Samantha chuckled at some unknown memory and Danny felt a shiver overcome him once again at her sensuous laugh.

"What are you giggling at?" He turned his ocean blue eyes on her and she resisted the urge to drown in them. Instead Sam turned her head away, gazing at a large blueberry bush up ahead.

"I don't giggle." Danny gave her a disbelieving look and she stuck her tongue out childishly to her, unaware of how his gaze fell upon it as his eyes turned a slight green. "I was thinking about Tucker. This is where we first met Valerie." Sam didn't know whether knew about Val or not, but assumed so when a curious look came to his handsome face.

"Tell me more about them? Tuck has told me a number of stories about you, but he hardly ever mentions Valerie. It seems painful for him to talk of her." Sam shook her head sadly, but told the story to him anyway. She could dwell on her friends later.

"Tucker was five and I was four. My parents were hosting some important guests, and so they had banished us to the gardens. Tuck had seen the blueberries were in bloom right away, and so we decided to indulge our hungry appetites. Mother had drilled me on manners since I could crawl, so I was only picking them off one at a time, but Tucker was shoving as many as he could fit into his mouth at once.

"Suddenly we heard Will the butler behind us, and we turned around guiltily. There was a little girl with pigtails hiding behind him, tied with yellow and orange ribbons. Tucker swallowed everything in his mouth at once, but his entire face was bright blue from the berries' juices. He started to speak, but Val was so afraid of this blue monster that she ran away screaming."

Danny laughed, a hearty and deep laugh that had Sam gazing at him in amazement. He smiled a crooked smile at her and she blushed, turning away. She heard a horse whinny nearby and it brought back another memory. She started to share it with Danny and the walked on, peacefully ignoring the looks they were getting from the slaves around them. Nothing else mattered in the world; not the war, not Tucker or Valerie, not Sam's upcoming doom of her marriage to Dash. They were just a boy and a girl, enjoying the beauty of remembering…

* * *

_Well? What'd you think? Did you like it? And anyone want to guess which of Sam's clutzy moments match up with mine? Whoever gets it right will get a virtual cookie and, as always, one of their ideas for this story in a future chapter. Try, people, it's a one in three shot!_

_Must go, it's late, I put off a ton of homework to type and post this, and my fingers feel like they're about to fall off. Loveys!_

_Angel_

**Next Update:** September 19, 2007

**Review?...**


	8. Chapter 8

_Don't shoot me! I am so so SO sorry! I had... not writer's block, but motivation block, for what seemed like an eternity, and so I WAS going to beg you to let me write a quick one-shot for another idea I have. When I actually sat down and started to write it, though, C.B. just WOULDN'T get out of my head! So I actually owe you two updates, because today is the day that Ch. 10 should have come out... Which I have! Haha, I've done so good I'm almost two chapters ahead! I should post the next chapter in a few days, but things are hectic at home. I made drama president for my school (bows to imaginary clapping) and now I'm in a play (it's awesome, called 'Fools' look it up) and IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!! (Screams 'Hurrah!') I am now at least at the legal age to drive!!! _

_Disclaimer: If I owned Danny Phantom... people would have deeper emotions..._

_Dedication: To JosephineInLove, for some awesome reviews. She has so many questions that make me think of great additions to the story..._

_Okay, read!_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Eight**

**Love, S.M.**

"…and so he is unbelievably, inexcusably, frustratingly infuriating!" Sam shook her head in sympathy, overwhelmed by the story her companion had relied to her. She and Kitrina were in Amity's local seamstress's shop, browsing materials and styles.

Sam, in desperate need of an escape from her flighty mother and the mirror-image women that were Pamela's 'friends' (who had gathered for their monthly luncheon), had quickly fled to Clockwork's when no other option was presented. Valerie had to cater to the whimsical women Samantha was fleeing, and Star was at tea with another local heiress in Amity. And Heaven forbid she try to interact with Dash, who was quite preoccupied with his occupation of chasing skirts; he was hardly an acquaintance beyond cooperating with her plans of evasion for their wedding.

So instead she flew to her old refuge, slower this time to avoid damage to her dress, especially since it was one she was rather fond of. It wasn't pink and it wasn't low-cut; it was a dark, mysterious purple that had more than a hint of black in it and was tied in the front like a corset with black ribbons. And it had nothing to do with the fact that it was one of the only dresses her mother hadn't been able to alter to her liking, nothing at all.

When she had reached the enchanting cottage in the woods she was relieved to find it empty of Daniel and, unfortunately, Tucker. She had become almost dependent upon seeing him now that he was back, although she felt guilty that Valerie knew nothing. More than once Sam had wanted to tell her friend of his return, but Tucker, upon first hearing her urge to reveal all, had made her swear to bite her tongue.

She had found Clockwork sitting at his kitchen table writing in his alluring but untouchable journal and chuckling at the argument happening behind his closed bedroom door. Many times Valerie and Tucker and Sam had tried to read that treasured work of literature, only to have Clockwork appear before them knowingly. Finally they had given up, leaving it to fate if they were to ever discover its secret contents.

Sam had stood in silence when she first heard the two voices through the door, amused. Jonathon was begging an apology of Kitrina, but she didn't seem to be listening. Kitty was too busy ranting to him about boundaries and personal space, and when there **was** a moment of silence Johnny must have done something to enrage her because she gave a shriek and a distinct 'slap' was heard.

Although Sam had been greatly enjoying herself listening to the two, she had a feeling that if Kitrina were to further injure Jonathon she was going to regret it in the end. That is, if she didn't want to have to nurse him longer than need be. So, like the wonderful person she was, Sam had rushed into the bedchamber, thumped him soundly over the head for whatever unknown crime he had committed, and dragged Kitty out of the cottage with a wave to Clockwork.

They had both stood staring at each other for an eternity of seconds, a little confused as to what to do. Kitty just wanted to go back inside and give Johnny a firm talking to; Sam had no idea what to do with the other girl after she had performed her good deed for the day. What was one to do with a person that was a complete stranger that knew things about one's best friend that one didn't? **Especially **since the person wanted to harm another stranger one felt deserved it?

Take them shopping. Which led them to where they were now, Kitrina going on about Jonathon as they both looked at sketches of dresses that Kitty would most likely never wear and Sam wouldn't get past her mother.

Sam paused as she came across a cute pattern in a book the seamstress (or more likely her slave) had made of hand-drawn sketches of the things she could create, interested. With an ivory fabric with gold threadwork, the style, a daring three-quarter sleeves bodice and extra petticoat bottom, would make Star look like a golden goddess. Sam wouldn't look anything but skeleton thin and slate chalk pale, but no other color would look as charming. It would be a perfect gift for Starra Anne's birthday in three months, as well. However, the thought of Pamela thinking the dress was for her daughter and that Sam had finally started to change her ways made the young woman pause and Vlad's disapproval make her abandon the idea altogether.

"I just don't get it." Kitrina's softer tone and dejected sigh made Sam aware of her companion's presence once again and the raven-locked youth turned to her. "If it weren't for his overwhelming past and precautious appearance, not to mention his all-too perverted ways, Johnny would be a great catch. Why is he so… **him**?"

Samantha didn't know what she meant about his past, but Kitty was right about Jonathon's looks. With a little soap, a good haircut, or at least a ribbon to tie his hair back, and smarter clothes, he would certainly be pleasing to look at, even if they could do nothing about his personality. Oh, he wouldn't compare to the foppish Dash or, Heaven help her, handsome Daniel, but it would be a nice change all the same.

"I don't know what to do about him, Kitrina. Pompous fools like Johnny and Daniel have little that could change them." From what Kitty had said, Jonathon had broken a promise to keep from fondling her an entire day. They had made the deal in hopes of actually avoiding an argument for once, especially because Clockwork had said Sam would be coming by, although neither could figure our how he knew.

Johnny had actually made it through his bandage changes and breakfast, but when Kitty had brought him dinner he 'lost control'. By the way Kitrina had said it, heavy with sarcasm, Sam had to assume that Johnny had been the one to utter those choice words. Kitty finally grew so angry at his treatment of her that she flew into a tantrum, demanding respect. She had almost forgiven him when he did it again, causing her to slap him across the face and Sam to come to the rescue.

There was silence in the shop for a moment, both girls dwelling on Sam's words. And then something struck Kitty as odd and she turned to Sam without looking at the page she had flipped to.

"What do you mean **Danny**? He's the sweetest, kindest, most considerate man I know!" Was she insane?!

"What are you talking about? Since I've met him, he's been nothing but cocky and arrogant. His ego is so big I'm surprised he can fit through the door!" The mental image would have made her laugh if Sam hadn't known they were talking about HIM.

"Wait, are we even talking about the same person here? Danny, my Danny? Tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed, mysterious Danny?" Sam almost snorted at Kitty's description, something the lady customer a few feet away would have thought very inappropriate.

"Yes, him. Rude, so tall he'd hit his head on the doorway of my house, laughing-eyed him. And how is **he** mysterious to **you**? You're in on whatever secret Tucker and Danny are sharing, I **know** it."

"Trust me, **no** one will ever **not** consider him a mystery." Kitty's reply was low and muttered, like she was saying it more to herself than Sam. "I don't know what he's like when he's around you, Sam, except for that one time in the cottage, but he truly **isn't** like that the rest of the time." This time Sam really **did** snort, though luckily their fellow browser had already made her purchase and left.

"I'll believe **that** when I see it." She turned back to the book, flipping through pages absently for a moment. Then she turned back to Kitrina, who was gazing at a gown with a wide, decoratively belted dress that would have done wonders for her already wonderful figure. "Not that **that** with ever happen." Kitty glanced at her a moment before glancing through her money clutch absently and sighing. She wouldn't have enough for the pattern, let alone the material and labor she would have to pay for.

"Why ever not?"

"Because I'm **never** going to set my eyes on Daniel Fenton **again**." Kitty truly looked at her then, intrigued. "He didn't tell you what he did when he came to call?"

"No. Nothing improper, I hope."

"Oh, it was **certainly **improper; scandalous, definitely."

"What**ever** did he do?" Kitty completely abandoned her browsing, leaving it turned to her dreamed-of but never attainable dress.

"Oh, it was nothing horrible… at first. I was a little miffed because he hadn't come calling since I had met him, which is both insulting **and** unacceptable in Amity Town, but I got over it rather quickly. I wish I hadn't, now." She went off into silence, and Kitrina had a hard time deciding whether she thought Sam was acting or not.

"Well?"

"Right, sorry." Sam snapped back into reality quickly, berating herself for falling into memories she had sworn never to dwell upon again. "We even got along fairly well, talking about Tucker and my friend Valerie. When it was time for him to leave, for he had already stayed far too long to be innocent, I sent him off with a curtsy, just as I should have. But then he had the nerve to ask for his 'special' farewell.

"I had no idea what he was talking about, and I told him so. The… the imbecile had the nerve to tell me I had kissed him goodbye at our first meeting! I mean, **really**. For one, I would **never** be so forward to a complete stranger. For another, I would never be so forward to **him**!"

"Hmmm." Kitty hummed softly, amused. Sam really didn't remember, just like Danny had guessed she wouldn't. "Well, let's not dwell on foolish men. I rather think I would like a pastry from the baker, and that I **can** afford." Sam looked at her new friend, sympathetic. She often forgot that the decent, level-headed girls she liked to associate with, instead of the shallow, ditzy plantation daughters usually didn't benefit from great amounts of wealth like she did. A sudden idea struck her, based from a comment Kitty had earlier made. She turned to the pattern book quickly, thumbing through it.

She found what she was looking for quickly, but it was the dress opposite it that held her attention. It was… gorgeous. Old fashioned, yes, and not generally something she would wear daily, but… Sam made a rash decision and rushed over to the seamstress with both hers and Kitrina's books in hand.

"Have you come to a decision, my lady?" The seamstress didn't lower her eyes like a slave would, but she did curtsy to Sam out of respect of her higher position.

"Yes. I need **this** dress in that ivory satin with gold, there. Yes, that one." Sam showed her the dress for Star and pointed out the correct fabric before gazing at the others hastily. A blue…no, to demure. It definitely wouldn't suit Kitty. A pink was out of the question, but… a hint of a bright color drew her attention and she knew. "And **this** one," she tapped Kitrina's dress sharply, "in that red, to your left."

"Red, madam?" The seamstress seemed shocked, but Sam just barreled on. If she didn't do this quickly she was going to lose her nerve.

"Yes, the red. Now I need these here in white silk, eleven of them." She tapped what she had originally been looking for distractedly, refusing to think of the bill as she gazed at more fabric. "And pair them with some tan, some black… two in blue, and… let's be a bit adventurous and say a single red."

"Whatever pleases you, my lady." The seamstress shook her head, amazed. She and Loretta, her slave, certainly were going to be busy.

"Oh Sam…" Kitty had finally discovered Sam's plan and she shook her head, refusing. "You don't—"

"Hush, you. I have plenty of allowance for **all** of this; it won't even make a dent. Now… make sure you put in matching hair ribbons, please."

"Of course, madam."

"And now for **this**." She put **the **dress pattern forward. "I want…"

**

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**

Forever, D.F. 

"I don't know what has you acting so peculiarly around Sam, Danny, but if you don't stop she's **really** going to get mad."

"So her huffy, 'I'm ignoring you except when I call you insulting names or act all superior' attitude isn't her being mad?" Danny didn't mention that he didn't know why he was acting that way either or that he couldn't stop. The two young men were moving rapidly through the forest, following some unseen path. Danny was leading the way, holding branches out of the way of Tucker's path and trying to ignore his limp.

"No."

"Wonderful."

"Not that you shouldn't beware **that** mood, either."

"Oh, that's **really** wonderful." The black snickered at his friend's plight as they continued and Danny sulked childishly. The next time they came to a low branch, thicker than before, Danny moved it out of the way for him but snapped it back in place right as Tucker reached it. The former slave leapt back with a yelp, grabbing his cap and clamping his hand onto one of the knives in his waistband that was sliding a bit too low for comfort. Maybe Sam was on to something, he was insane to load up like this constantly… especially when he was around Danny.

"Come on, we're going too slow." They continued on in silence, Tucker silently gasping for breath. He was pushing his limit with how fast they were moving, but he could tell his companion was getting impatient. Even with his injured leg Danny could have gone at least three times as fast as they were going now if he hadn't insisted on Tuck coming. And that would be without getting the slightest bit winded…

They passed quickly by their surroundings, Tucker vaguely recognizing the scenery. The trio of friends, Sam, Tuck, and Val, had gone out farther into the woods than most of the men in Amity, but they hadn't often gone past Clockwork's cottage. They had always ended up trying some new mischievous plan to get a hold on the hermit's journal; they always failed, as well.

"Whatever did you do to frustrate Sam so in the first place, Danny?" If the more experienced masquerader happened to notice that Tucker seemed a little out of breath he didn't mention it. The black was lugging around an extra twenty pounds in weaponry, after all.

"I… happened to… ask her if she would tell me good-bye the way she did when we first met?" He was hesitant as he replied, turning his answer more into a question than a statement.

"You asked her to **kiss** **you**?" Tucker exploded, his head spinning in rage. How could Danny even think of suggesting such a thing to darling Samantha?! Protective old brother thoughts crept into his head, utmost and forward on the list trying to maim, no **kill** Danny. Forget about best friends or the fact that he would be forced to run drills for eternity once Lancer found out his precious weapon was dead; this meant justice!

"Yeah." Danny's voice was quiet and if it weren't for his iron resolve and training he would have been trembling in absolute fear. The outraged look on Tucker's face would have been comical if it weren't aimed at him and he hurried to reassure the black before he got any ideas. "Look, calm down. She slapped me across the face as soon as I told her what I meant."

A grin suddenly came onto Tucker's face and Danny relaxed. "I'm surprised you don't have a bruise; she may be little, but Sam can definitely hit."

"She couldn't reach high enough to leave a mark, but it **did** sting." The slight at her height made them chuckle and they started to move on from where they had paused. Danny gave a silent sigh of relief at the near escape, watching the now-relaxed Tucker out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly an acorn fell a foot in front of Danny; another hit Tucker's hat a moment later. The former slave didn't pay any thought on it, but Danny paused. A rustle above him in the trees made him glance up and he sighed.

"Come down, Damien!" He yelled up into the trees, uncaring that he had just broken his own rule of trying to keep from raising his voice above a whisper. There was silence for a moment, and then a 'bang!' sounded and a bullet hit the ground right between his feet. "You―!" He jumped out of the way as another one landed an inch closer, livid. "Damien! I'm going to **murder** you!"

A laugh above them just made Danny turn red and Tucker looked around, confused. "Why…?" Danny walked forward, leaving the gleeful voice above them for a later time.

"We're here." Danny's voice was emotionless and Tucker recognized his 'soldier' look; Jazz had always teased her brother for how grim he looked when he wore that expression, saying he gave the impression that something he ate had made him sick.

"But… it's too quiet."

"They've actually learned to hide; the only tent is the sick tent now. Even the General is sleeping under the stars." They went on in silence, Danny heading to the center of camp instinctively. "They haven't perfected everything. Look over there." He pointed at a random tree and Tucker glanced over at it; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "See the pits in the park? They're knife marks, most likely from Damien. He can swing through the trees with ease, but he can't climb them. He probably uses knives to pull himself up. And there." Danny pointed somewhere at the dirt to their right, and once again Tucker saw only the forest scenery. "Someone dumped water on the ground; the dirt is fairly wet, and there's a ditch from where the force of the water pushed it away."

Tucker just shook his head, watching Danny point out a number of small things he never would have noticed. A hint of gun powder residue against the forest floor. A trace of flame scorches from a fire. Indents in the grass that now looked too much like a human form not to be suspicious. Every once in a while Danny would glance into the trees and wave, but when he looked up Tucker never saw anyone.

As they seemed to get closer to the invisible center, however, actual people revealed themselves. A number of front-line gunmen who were a 'special' shooter group with men masters like Tucker, were everywhere. They didn't have to worry about hiding for some unspoken reason, but were instead cleaning their already gleaming guns by campfires that were barely visible. Nurses and doctors, as well as the wives that had refused to be left behind when their men joined up, were filtering around, faces betraying their boredom.

The large medical tent was set up in the middle of a clearing, relatively quiet except for when a fit of coughing started. Danny and Tucker started toward it, throwing nods at random people that called out. Tucker bent down to coo at a baby that a young mother held, watching the small hands with sad, faraway eyes. When he looked up again Danny was outside of the large tent, looking back at him. Tuck started to stand and follow his friend but Danny waved him off, silently telling him to stay. The former slave bent back down to the infant, watching Danny enter the tent as the mother started to talk to him.

Danny strode through the door flaps quickly, feeling the familiar connection to his army life return. The cots were nearly empty, littered only by a sparse few people who were too white and had a feverish look in their eyes. Two nurses, who he dimly remember were Bridget and Katherine, were going around to each of the occupied mats with a vial of medicine and a teaspoon and an auburn-haired doctor was listening to another man's lungs. Jasmine stood nearby, observing the doctor's examination silently.

"You're right, it's the same thing; the racking cough is there, and the phlegm. Jazz…" His expression turned from thoughtful to grim. "if we don't do something about this soon, it's going to spread."

"I know! And we don't have enough medicine to treat **everyone**!" She was silent a moment and then shook her head, giving him a pleading expression. "Will it get any worse." Jasmine seemed to beg for him to say 'no', but he just looked at her. The agitation and worry were clear on their faces, and Danny suddenly noticed the dark circles under her blue eyes.

"It's bound to; the first few who came in with it are still here, going on a week and a half."

"Things keep getting worse and worse. I wish Danny was here…" She looked close to tears, and Danny was suddenly angry at himself. Here he was, sleeping on a soft bed and worrying himself over a single girl, a daughter of the enemy no less, and Jazz was suffering in the wilderness on the last reserves of her energy! He really need to get his priorities straight…

"Wish granted." Jazz spun around, stunned.

"Danny!" She rushed towards him and he enveloped her in his arms. "You always know." Her words were soft and he was startled to feel drops of liquid on his neck where her head was buried.

"It's okay, Jazz; come on." He shook away the feeling that he had just told a lie and gave the doctor nearby a significant look that he nodded to. Danny wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and led her outside. They walked in silence for a time, Jasmine quietly sniffing, until they were a good distance away from the camp. "Now; what's wrong."

"Everything! I'm dirty, and tired, and on the edge of my limit. Everyday another three men come into the hospital, complaining of a cough and a terrible headache."

"Isn't it a head cold, then?" Danny was confused; he didn't know much about illnesses, that was Jazz's forte, but colds had been common in the area of West Virginia where they were from. Something as simple as this shouldn't have Jazz so worried…

"At first we thought it was, but now… Danny, the first man's cold still hasn't gone away! We're afraid… Danny, we're afraid it's turning into pneumonia." Dread settled into the pit of his stomach, churning there with an acid flutter. Pneumonia was fatal in the best of situations; here, in the idle of an army brigade in the forest, it would mean certain death.

"What can I do?" Danny thought briefly of Poppy with her forever supply of odd and end concoctions, but pushed it aside. They may have appeared a posh, comfortable group to Amity Town, but the little scout party only had so much to keep up their charade. And the regiment under Lancer's command had already given them far too much for such an unimportant mission; it would drain everything they had, both the brigade and the scouting party, to supply enough for a pneumonia uprising. And that was only if the midwife had enough!

Clockwork was quickly eliminated as well; he would be suspicious as soon as Danny asked for it, and he was still punishing them for lying to him about Kitty and Johnny. Oh, he hadn't said anything, but Kitty still nursed Johnny, which was both rather improper **and** seemed to be enough torture for Kitrina. Besides, the hermit had only a minimum supply of medicines because he only had what he could grow himself. He probably got medicines for things like pneumonia from Poppy, anyways.

"Nothing; we'll be fine. We'll figure something out… we have too. But, Danny…" Jazz wiped the traces of tears away from her face, breathing deeply. "there's something else."

"What else could there be besides pneu―"

"Jazz!" The shout reached them before they saw anything, and Danny turned just as a young woman came barreling through the bushes at their left hurriedly.

"Danni?!"

"Danny!"

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_Yeah baby! I know, not that exciting until about the last four sentences for you all, but really, everything in this chapter IS relevent later on. Um... trivia question: Who is Damien in the actual series? Same prize as always; whoever gets it right first gets a virtual cookie and their idea put somewhere in the story. _

_Because I owe you the next chapter I should post it in a week, but after that the_ **Next Update** _will be..._

November 3, 2007

**...Review?**


	9. Chapter 9

_Before we start, let me apologize. I know that it has been SEVERAL months longer than when I said I would post next, and for once I have a (hopefully) understandable excuse. As I got ready to start typing this chapter all the way back in October, I went to the binder where I keep the notebooks that this story is first written in. To my horror, I COULD NOT FIND IT. I searched everywhere, multiple times, and talked to everyone I could think of that might have it (unknowingly) in their possesion. For over a month I waited, and it never turned up. This is horrible, you see, for more reasons than one. Not only did I have this chapter in that notebook, but I also had the next FOUR. _

_I was so distraught, that I couldn't bring myself to rewrite the chapter for two months. When I finally sat down to begin again, I realized that I HATED the Sam's P.O.V. that I had first planned for this chapter. When this idea came, I was reluctant. It was... hard to write, at first, but I soon realized that it fit the timeline better for future chapters than the one of old. Since that time four months ago, when I sat down to rewrite this chapter, I have tried to continue on with the next chapter, but find myself unable. This is where I turn to you, dear readers. I am going to let you in on an important secret. To most authors to wish to write well, reviews truly are a push. They give me the rush I need to break through the writer's block I am so often subject to, and create an effort to make my story even better. So please, even if it is only a sentence, send me a review. It will motivate me to write the next chapter, so that I can get on to the wonderful ideas I have for the next ones. Trust me, you will love where this story will go, how relationships and secrets will begin to unfold. Thank you._

_Now, in lighter news! For the first time, someone has correctly guessed one of my disguised Danny Phantom characters! Congradulations to JosephineInLove, who identified Damien as Poindexter the Bully Ghost. She has already told me her opinion of what she hopes will be an event in the story, and I hope to oblidge her. To those of you that guessed Valerie's father, I must apologize. I did not know that Damien was his name until you told me, and thus I must have thrown you for a loop. Sorry!_

_Disclaimer: If I owned Danny Phantom, I would not be writing this, would I? It would be on television already._

_Dedication: This goes out to the anonymous Amy, who inflated my already big head by telling me that I pulled her out from lurking in the shadows of reviewing! Thank you, darling. _

_And, now, enjoy the long over due,_ **Crossing Borders**_ Chapter Nine!_

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**Chapter Nine**

**Love, S.M.**

The streets were bustling when they departed form the seamstress' shop, owners standing in doorways as if watching for a favored costumer to come down their way. As the two girls walked leisurely by, Kitrina couldn't help but be startled as curtsies and bows were rapidly swept in their direction.

"I really wish you hadn't done that, Samantha. I don't deserve such kindness, and Johnny **certainly** doesn't either."

"Nonsense; I know I don't **need** to, Kitrina, but I wanted to. I know we only met a short while ago, but I've come to consider you a friend. Thus, I want you to call me Sam; I've always hated the formality my mother instilled into my name." Kitty smiled at Sam's grimace, and nodded easily in assent. "And besides, Jonathon needed a reason to wash his hair." They both giggled, and Kitty linked her arm through Sam's.

"I **am** glad you think me a friend, Sam. It's been hard, moving away from home. I ache something terrible for my father and stepmother."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you left?" Kitty smiled and negatively shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing. "Oh, well. Where would you like to visit next?"

"Is the bakery close by? I hadn't the chance to eat before you came and got me, and I'm craving something sweet."

"It's just down this turn-off; Chef Crème has the best pastries in the country. I just wish you had said something earlier, I had no idea you hadn't eaten!"

"It's perfectly fine. This is about the time I share tea with Clockwork, anyways." The two companions stopped at the side of the street, waiting for a horse-drawn carriage to pass.

"How has Clockwork been doing? I have such little time to visit him, with my life being invaded with my mother and her plans for," Sam made an unpleasant face, "my marriage."

"You're getting married?!" A mother with a young child sleeping in her arms glanced over sharply at Kitrina's slight shriek and Kitty bowed her head in embarrassment. "You're getting **married**?" Her voice was almost a whisper, but her eyes were intense.

"Unfortunately." Sam's tone was sour, and Kitty looked over at her in surprise as they began to cross the cobble-stoned street.

"How could getting married **ever** be unfortunate?" Sam snorted, and Kitty began to get the feeling her new friend may not be quite the proper plantation's daughter she gave the appearance of.

"It is when you're marrying someone like Dashiel Baxter."

"That name seems familiar. Didn't you say something to Tucker about a person named that?" They turned the corner of the street and Kitty could see a bakery sign hanging down the far side of the new road.

"That's right. Tucker knew Dashiel from our childhood, although we weren't ever really friendly to each other." Tucker used to play tricks on the boy, who, even at an early age, exploited his well-off position to torment those beneath him. It was one of the reasons Samantha's friend had been punished so frequently.

"So why is he so unpleasant to marry? Unless he's grotesque looking, but I don't picture you being one to judge by outward appearances." Kitty was hesitant in asking, but Sam answered quickly and uncaringly, although not without some thought.

"Well, he's quite handsome, I suppose, and has a large income (or will when he gets his inheritance), but he's arrogant about it. He's demanding of everyone, especially slaves, and so forward to young women it comes close to the point of being cruel and embarrassing. Few girls mind, however, because most of the girls in town are horrible shallow and silly."

"He sounds grotesque… or, at least, his personality does."

"He is. I wish I weren't marrying him. Dash is rather apprehensive about the deal himself, actually." Sam sighed, and shrugged her shoulders for only a moment before they returned back to their proper, rigid position.

"So why must you wed?" They were drawing near to the bakery, and Sam and Kitty could smell the warm confections baking. The appealing scent drew them in, and they walked slightly faster.

"It's his guardian that's behind the matter, although my mother is just as encouraging. Vladimir Masters is the most powerful man in amity Town, and whatever he wishes, he receives. As it happens, I'm the richest heiress in the county, and thus Vlad would have me for Dashiel's bride. He only wishes to further his own fortune, I'm sure."

"How can he do that if it would be Dashiel's money?" They reached the shop directly after her question, and the two girls entered the open door.

"I'm not sure, but I know Vlad is willing to do **anything** for power."

The shop was warm and inviting as they walked in, breads and sugary confections lining the walls for display. A bright fire could be seen in the back of the room, burning cheerfully as a well-dressed slave slid a roll of dough over it. Two more servants, equally clothed as fine, were kneading mounds of dough for tarts.

"Ah, Lady Sam! So good to see you again!" A cheerful, boisterous voice rand out, and the girls turned toward the direction it came from. The speaker was a short, well-rounded man, whose gray hair was in disarray under his chef's hat and whose apron was pulled taunt over his protruding stomach. "Would you care for some goat's cheese or flavored cream?" Sam laughed as the man walked towards them.

"Oh, Chef Crème, you are a baker, not a dairyman. Do you really think **this** batch will be any more edible that your last sample you gave me?" Kitrina looked puzzled, but Chef only smiled.

"Well, it was worth a try. What can I do for you and your companion?"

Samantha suddenly looked sheepish, and she smiled a bashful grin. "Chef Crème, meet my new friend…" She looked at Kitty, not knowing what to call her. Would she want to go by her real name, or her alias? Kitrina, noticing her dilemma, mouthed 'Mary' quickly. "Mary. Mary, this is Chef Crème, the best pastry-maker for counties around, although he should never be allowed to make dairy."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady. Are you here to sample some of my humble masterpieces?"

"Yes, Chef. And the pleasure is greatly returned, although I am no Lady. I've only ever been a commoner, and that is all I shall most likely ever be, as my husband is of no position."

"Ah, but Lady Sam seems to pick the noblest of companions for friends. I am certain you are worthy of the title." Chef Crème smiled at them both, and then turned to face his goods. "Now then, what sweet would you wish from your humble pastry cook?" Sam answered immediately, obviously used to his choices.

"A raspberry scone for me, Chef Crème." One of the slaves, a tall, willowy woman, handed her the pastry.

"And do you have any crepes, dear Chef?" Kitrina looked around for her favorite treat before Chef Crème gave a great bellow of a laugh that drew her gaze.

"Crepes are one of my special masterpieces, dear Lady! Come, Florice, bring her the choices." The woman who had been overlooked the fire glanced up and smiled before walking over to a shelf on her left. "I have flavored nearly every kind of crepe imaginable, Lady. Apple, cream, the strawberry delicacy, but I have found none as wonderful as my rarest boysenberry."

"Boysenberry? I've never hear of such a fruit."

"Ah, but that is because they are so hard to find! Luckily, we have a marvelous amount in our very forest. Still, not many care to over-indulge on the sweet berry, as too many; can cause a painful stomachache, as I learned personally." He smiled, and Kitty could easily see the kind chef nibbling away at a mountain of mysterious fruit in her mind's eye.

"Could I try one of those crepes? You have piked my interest, Chef. How much would one cost?"

"Cost! My Lady, for you, I will not charge you for **two**!" The servant Florice brought over two of the thin, rolled, fruit-filled pastry sticks, wrapped in a thin, cloth napkin. Kitrina started to object, but Chef Crème stopped her. "Please, Lady. It would please my greatly if you would take them without complaint. If you like, you can consider them a sample." Kitty sighed, but accepted the packet of sweets from Florice without another word.

Sam, who had stood back as the wonderful baker kindly coerced her new friend, came forward with her untouched scone. "Thank you, dear Chef Crème!" She lifted up just a little to place a kiss on his chubby, wrinkled cheek, and he smiled sweetly at her.

"Of course, Lady Sam. Say hello to Valerie for me." He bowed to the both of them, and they left the shop slowly. Once outside, they stood a moment in silence before turning to each other.

"Would you like to go anywhere else? I should be returning soon, unfortunately, but I wouldn't mind walking you to your destination before I return to my mare."

Kitrina thought a moment before answering. "I need to pick up Johnny's elixir, as Danny couldn't today. Do you know where I could find a woman by the name of Poppy? Danny didn't explain very clearly how to get to her residence."

"She's the local midwife who specializes in medical herbs for Amity Town. The doctor my mother has me seen by (supposedly he's the best around and all the plantation owners go to him) doesn't like her at all. Personally, I think it's because her concoctions work better than his medicines. If I remember correctly, she's on the edge of Amity, a few streets from here."

"Could we visit her? I know it's not the way you're going, but Johnny really needs it."

"Of course; I don't mind avoiding my mother for a while yet." They began down the street, heading east of Chef Crème's bakery.

"Chef Crème is very friendly. I hadn't thought to find many people like him here." Sam glanced over at her cryptic words, slightly puzzled by what she meant. Again the wish went through her mind that she could know where they were all really from, but had to deal with only knowing that they had experienced the wonders of the North.

"Oh, there aren't as few as people think. Most of them are commoners, however, or middle classmen that don't dare reveal their feelings. Crème takes good care of Florice, Fawna, and Felicia." Kitty giggled a little, a high, bell-like sound that, with her honey-gold curls and happy eyes, made Samantha think her an angel.

"Where was Tucker this morning? I didn't see him **or** Daniel." Kitty didn't answer, and Sam turned her head to glance at her companion. She saw a wrinkled brow and cloudy eyes, a complete contrast to the angel she had only just witnessed. "Is this something else I can't know?"

"No, not really." There was something in her tone that sounded strange under the hesitation, but Sam didn't dwell on it as she went on slowly. "Danny took Tucker out into the woods for some… hunting. Maybe he hoped he could cheer Tuck up. He's been quieter than usual since we came to Amity Town."

"Now he knows how Valerie and I have felt for the last year without him." Kitrina was a bit shocked at the steel in Sam's voice, but her friend softened immediately. "I'm sorry. It's just… it's been hard, not having him. And I feel horrible I can't tell Val he's here."

"Why didn't Valerie go with him when he left?" Kitty couldn't contain herself, and she watched Sam's sight turn inward, toward images of the past she couldn't see.

"She was supposed to. I was too, for that matter. But… then Tucker started to see what happened to the ones that **didn**'**t** make it, the ones who couldn't escape. He didn't want that to happen to us, was terrified that it would happen to us, so… he left in the middle of the night. He left a note, promising that he'd free Valerie, and that's it. He was gone."

"I'm so sorry, Sam. It must be killing you not to tell her."

"Sometimes I think about just forgetting my promise to Tuck and telling her. Not having him… it's slowly killing her, no matter how much she pretends she's fine. But even **if** she saw him right now, all of his secrets would just kill her faster." Kitty felt her heart clench, and she slid an arm through Samantha's.

"And what about you? Isn't it killing you, as well?" Sam shook her head and some ebony curls came out of her fashioned bun, tumbling down her back.

"No. It hurts, but… I can survive with just him gone. It's when they both leave that I'll start to fall." Kitty heard the sincerity in her voice and believed it. "But now. There's no need to keep on with such depressing talk. I think we've reached Madame Poppy's."

Kitty suddenly became aware of her surroundings, and she glanced around. The houses were definitely more sparse, and maybe a bit more run-down that those at the center of town, but they weren't without their charm. One had a set of cheerful blue curtains in the front windows, and another house had a great, giant dog with a sagging face that looked like it hadn't moved off the porch in decades.

"Do you know which one is Poppy's?" Kitty, unfamiliar with the town, had little idea which house to choose; Danny never had told her the location of the herbal midwife.

"Well, Valerie told me it's supposed to be perfectly square, and have cube-like bushes of roses out front as a walkway. Do you think it could be that one?" Samantha nodded at the one to her left, and Kitty turned to look at it. The roof was oddly flat, and it truly did look **exactly** like a square. A fenced-off garden could be seen at the back of the house, large and vast compared to most of the town flower gardens.

"I would imagine so." Kitty suddenly remembered Danny's strained expression every time he returned with Johnny's concoction, and turned hurriedly to Sam. "You'll come in with me, won't you? I don't want to seem peculiar."

"Of course! She's perfectly friendly, even if her mixtures are vile. She did wonders to relieve the pain in my arm." Sam put a hand on her cast. As soon as Doctor Stratt had returned from his medical leave for the Confederate Army Pamela had insisted on him seem Sam, and he had reluctantly complimented Midwife Poppy's tidy job. He had said that Sam would have to keep the cast for a while yet, and then wear a brace for riding, but he allowed her to stop taking Poppy's pain-reducing potion.

They both went up the walkway, which was just wide enough for two full skirts to make it through without snagging on the rose bushes. The two were almost at the door when it was suddenly opened, and standing in the doorway was a rather stout man. He smiled as he walked by with a small, square chest and as they past he called over his shoulder.

"Ya can go strai' in! Poppy's in da ki'chen, or Boslinda's ou' back wit' 'er man."

"Thank you!" The two peered cautiously around the door once he disappeared from sight before entering slowly and closing the door.

"Rob? Di' ya' forgit sometin'?" A woman's voice came down the hallway to their left, and Kitty and Sam glanced at each other before walking in that direction.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but we're here for a remedy." They followed the sounds of chopping knives, heading right. "Your husband said to just come right in."

"Oh, 'ello then!" A redheaded, wrinkling, and pleasant face suddenly emerged from the doorway on their right. "Why, tis Miss Sam! 'Ow you, dearie? Arm still 'urt?"

"Good day Midwife Poppy. And my arm feels wonderful, thank you."

"Now if i' fel' won'erful, ya woul'n'a 'ave tha' cas', now wou' ya? Ya sure ya don' need none o' my pain'iller?" The older woman went over to the stove and started to stir a pan, which was hissing slightly.

"Not I, Midwife Poppy. But I think that is what my friend Mary might be after." Poppy glanced up at Sam, puzzled, and then Sam Kitty behind her as if for the first time.

"Well, 'ello! Sorry I di'n' see ya afore! 'Ow be ya? New in town? Sin'le? **Tha**' won' last long!" Kitty looked surprised at all of the questions and glanced over at Samantha, who only shrugged. Poppy loved to talk, and she was also a huge gossip. Everyone would know about 'Mary's' life story within an hour after she left.

"Actually, I'm… Nathaniel's sister. I'm here to pick up his usual dose of your pain remedy for my husband, Matthew."

"Well, now, 'ow gran'! Nathan is one grea' boy; why, 'e charm'd me da secon' 'e bowed! Not tha' 'is looks di'n' 'elp, min' ya." Poppy put the ladle down and walked over to a tall bookself covered in jars full of various colored items. "Where's 'e taday, 'uh? Na wai', le' me guess. Is 'e ou' wit a youn' woman? I knew 'e'd be snapped up righ' quick. I tol' 'im so, too. Wit looks li' tha', 'who wou'n wan' 'im?" Kitrina looked overwhelmed with Midwife Poppy's constant, unending chatter, standing there with a stunned look on her face. Sam smiled and gestured behind the older woman's back to Kitty, letting her know she was taking her leave. Kitty's eyes became round and she shook her head in apprehensive denial, but Sam still turned and left the kitchen.

She **did** want to stay, but the conversation had turned down a path that gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Besides, she really did need to go home, if only to take care of her horse. Even her father would have noticed her absence by now, and he was usually so busy he rarely paid attention to the coming and goings of his family.

As she left, Poppy was saying something about how her daughter's fiancé was contemplating joining the war, and Sam felt a sudden wave of fatigue. No matter what, there was always a reminder that there was a civil war raging outside of 'perfect' little Amity Town.

"I hate war."

* * *

**Forever, D.F.**

"I don't know **what** is going on, but someone had better tell me **now**." Danny shoved the tent flaps aside angrily, his eyes a bitter blue-green. He looked around the hospital tent with a glare until he spotted his target, and stormed over to him. Jazz and the other young woman traveled behind him, wary looks on their faces. Danny halted a foot away from one of the hospital beds, staring stonily at the victim of his anger with his arms crossed. "**Explain**."

General Lancer looked up from the young man he had been standing over, a casual expression on his worn face. "Good afternoon, Daniel. Ah… what am I supposed to be explaining?" He smiled lightly at the gifted young man, but Danny's expression didn't change.

"**That**." He pointed at the girl standing slightly behind Jasmine, never removing his eyes from Lancer's. The object of his gesture flushed red, clenching her hands an taking two determined steps forward.

"Hey! I'm not an object! You jerk, take that…" Danny turned to look at her, his bright orbs flashing an even brighter green and she trailed off slowly.

"That, Mister Fenton, is called a **female**, and, unfortunately, men don't have enough time in the entire world to discover all of the secrets they hold." The general could hardly restrain his smile and Jazz openly giggled, but Danny's dark expression remained set in stone.

"You know I did not mean it in that way, sir." Danny suddenly looked tired beyond all words, and Lancer was forced to remember that he was dealing with a young, still developing, man. "Just tell me: why is **she** here?" Behind him Danny heard the young woman inhale sharply, apprehensive. General Lancer seemed to ponder something, worrying at a worn spot on the slumbering young man's jacket at whose bed he sat at. He finally seemed to come to a decision and looked at Danny blankly.

"Leave us." He commanded over Danny's shoulder, look at Jazz and her companion. The young woman started to protest, but Jazz touched her arm softly, giving her an indecipherable look. She sighed and they left, leaving Danny and the general alone with the slumbering young men around them. Lancer was silent, and Danny shuffled on his feet, growing uncharacteristically impatient.

"Well?" Danny said finally, and the general glanced at Danny before he sighed, resigned. The young man most certainly wasn't going to back down.

"Danielle was with the regiment we joined her; Jasmine recognized her immediately." Abruptly the young man's rage was back, his eyes flashing a brighter and brighter green. Yet he didn't storm about or yell at the top of his lungs. Instead he stood perfectly still, clenching and unclenching his hands; when he finally spoke, it was a strained whisper, his teeth clenched.

"**How** could they have let her join? She's **fourteen**, for heaven's sake! They almost didn't accept Jazz because she wasn't married, why would they accept Danielle?! She's been running around a battlefield tending men scores older than her, which is **extremely** improper! When I…" He broke off at the look on Lancer's face, quickly noting the flash of quilt that flew across it. "There's more." He said it so quietly it should have been impossible to hear, but his tone was so firm the general could have heard it across the room. Danny was almost daring him to lie, staring at the older man with cold eyes.

"She didn't sign up as a nurse." Lancer's voice was grim, his jaw clenched.

"How is she here—?" Lancer cut him off, refusing to meet his eyes.

"She enlisted as a gunman in the disguise of a thirteen year old boy. She had everyone fooled until Jasmine saw her." Fury rolled within Danny's blood and he shut his eyes to remove the red floating around the corners of his vision, but still his entire body shook with the repressed anger, his voice almost a growl.

"**They should have known**! Danni is so small, so feminine! They should have seen it immediately! How could they have let this happen?!"

"They're desperate; Daniel, they'll take almost anyone without question. Even the free blacks are being put into special regiments. Even if they would have noticed Danielle was a girl, they would have taken her on. **Anyone** willing to fight for our cause is enlisted as quickly as possible despite race, or, in this case, gender."

Lancer's gentle speech forced Danny to rein in his ragged emotions with his normal stern resolution, reminding himself that personal issues **couldn't** overrule the need to defend their country. He shook his head roughly and stiffly unclenched his teeth, his eyes returning to their normal sky blue shade. He' didn't want Danielle here, not in the slightest, but he had little say in the matter now, of that he was certain.

Danielle, or, as she was more commonly known, Danni, was Daniel's favorite cousin. Out of the hordes of relatives they shared, Danny would much rather spend time with her than any other, with the slight exception of Jazz. She was three years younger than him to the very day, but they shared more than just a birthday. They each had the same black hair (although Danni's was a decent bit longer) and matching blue eyes. They shared an identical roguish grin and the odd trait of bright green eyes when angered or passionate about something they loved, with the exception of Danni's easier going attitude. Daniel had a more rigid control over his temper, but lost it much more often than his cousin. Had she been a few years older and quite a bit taller, she could have been his twin.

They even shared the same habit of rubbing their heads when embarrassed, and neither was without a mischievous attitude, although Danny's had faded somewhat. In fact, their personality was identical for all but one fact: Danny loved to stay in the shadows and play the silent hero while Danni was always up for being the center of attention.

"What do I do?" Danny sighed, going to the tent flaps to lift them, staring at his favorite cousin as she stood by Tucker, and playing with the young baby. "How am I going to protect her when she's here and I'm in Amity? How **can** I?" Silently, internally, he continued.

'How much more can I take?'

* * *

_Was it worth the extreme wait? Are any of you even my old readers? I certainly hope so. Now, a few notes:_

_1. Danny's Disguised: I gave you a few more hints about Robert, Poppy, and Boslinda. NOW can you tell me who they are?_

_2. There is going to be more history brought into the story, for those of you who wish it. If not... just think of it as really factual fiction!_

**_...Reviews? Please?_**

_Angel (Who Is In Big Trouble, She Knows)_


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